


I'm Yours

by WinglessCrows



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Light Angst, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Platonic Relationships, Post-Season/Series 03, Scars, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-06-23 20:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15614430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinglessCrows/pseuds/WinglessCrows
Summary: "Arthur used to think he knew everything about his servant, and to an extent he still did. As shocked as he had been about the incident, this wasn’t exactly something that was unlike Merlin. It was dumb and it came from a place of kindness with a total disregard of himself. The action itself, Arthur understood. What he didn’t understand was why Merlin had kept it to himself."In which Arthur slowly unravels the mystery that is Merlin, and begins to realize just how much he doesn't know.





	1. My Service is Yours

**Author's Note:**

> I have most of the story written already, so I think I can manage somewhat regular updates. Hope you enjoy!

Arthur sat by his desk, mindlessly going through some reports. It was well past noon and he hadn’t seen Merlin since he had woken him up and basically thrown breakfast at him. His quarters were not exactly messy, but his laundry was piling up and he’d soon run out of clean shirts (that didn’t have holes somewhere). Normally he would find Merlin to take care of it. However, the castle was brimming with knights and lords from all over the kingdom, who were all here to discuss state matters with their king.

 

Arthur counted himself lucky that his father had slowly recovered from Morgana’s betrayal and had resumed all his kingly duties after Arthur had acted as regent for three months in his stead. Arthur knew that the time where he would be king was soon upon them, but he wished for a couple more years of just being prince Arthur. He didn’t feel ready just yet. His three months as regent had proved that. Arthur was not the kind to hesitate, but during his regency he had found himself not always knowing what the right decision was. He had asked for council as often as he dared without anyone questioning his ability to lead, and Arthur had never in his life been more grateful for Merlin’s council and support than he had during those three months. Even if Merlin didn’t know much about politics, it was often his support that helped Arthur make a decision or not give in to a decision made by the council or others.  


Another great pillar of support had been his uncle Agravaine. Having heard of Arthur assuming regency, his uncle had come to the castle and offered his council. His uncle always had his best interest at heart, and had knowledge and experience which Arthur didn’t. Arthur could honestly say that without the two of them, he wouldn’t have thought he could be king at all. Now he was merely aware that he needed a little time to prepare himself.

 

The conference taking place during this time was of great significance to Arthur as he got to learn more about the affairs of the outlying villages and the more direct relationships with bordering kingdoms. Of course, Arthur had other duties as well. When the politics had been talked over as much as they could and then some more, a tournament would be held to celebrate the kingdom. Arthur was of course expected to both participate and win it.

 

And it was because of all of this that Merlin wasn’t currently doing his laundry. His manservant was currently employed with sir Ronald whose guest quarters were on the other side of the castle. Arthur thought that he was unlikely to see Merlin for another couple of hours, and resigned himself to sorting out these reports before hoping he’d see Merlin before dinner.

 

Arthur was therefore surprised when Merlin came by less than an hour later and picked up the basket of laundry before leaving again. Arthur wanted to ask if he really had time for that, but Merlin was gone before he got to say anything and he figured it was all good.

 

Regardless, during dinner Arthur asked sir Ronald if he was satisfied with his servant, and he said the Camelot really only had the best of the best. Arthur nodded and forgot about the whole thing for the evening.

 

“Sir Ronald is very pleased with your service,” Arthur told Merlin the next morning when the servant brought him breakfast, “Called it ‘the best of the best’,” Arthur continued, “Are your servant skills merely lousy when it comes to me or does Sir Ronald have a very low bar for your to clear?”

 

Merlin looked at him, slightly confused, which wasn’t the reaction Arthur had expected. He had expected a clever reply or some sort of insult about how Arthur was spoiled, but he got nothing, only: “I don’t work for sir Ronald.”

 

“What?” Arthur gaped, because he had personally assigned Merlin to sir Ronald, and since the knight wasn’t missing a servant, something else had happened at some point, “Then what have you been doing all day?”

 

“I work for sir Richard,” Merlin explained before finishing up making Arthur’s bed, “Would that be all, sire?”

 

And while Arthur would like to keep Merlin to explain the sudden change, he wouldn’t want to keep sir Ron- Richard waiting, and he dismissed his servant. It was weird though. Had Merlin forgotten who he had been assigned to and then the rest of the servants had just made it work, or had it been a deliberate decision from Merlin’s side? Arthur wouldn’t assume so. Merlin hadn’t met any of the two men before and sir Ronald was a nice person. It had been part of the reason Arthur had assigned him to Merlin, because his servant had times of sloppiness and sir Ronald was the least likely person to give him a hard time for it.

 

Arthur was on his way to the training grounds to find either one of the knights, wanting to ask them about their servants, when he walked into Carolina - almost knocking her over - and figured that he might as well ask her instead as she was supposed to be working for sir Richard.

 

“I thought you were working for sir Richard,” Arthur asked without giving an explanation, and the girl bowed before him.

 

“Yes, sire, I was, but Merlin kindly offered to switch with me.”

 

“Why?”

 

The girl looked flustered for a second before answering him, “I work in the kitchen often and sir Ronald’s quarters were closer.”

 

Arthur nodded and dismissed her. She bowed and disappeared down the hall, Arthur looking as she hurried off. He was certain that she had a good reason for lying to him. While he knew about her kitchen duties, once again, she had been assigned to sir Richard exactly because his quarters were closer to the kitchens, so unless their guests had both swapped servants as well as rooms, something was going on and Arthur couldn’t be sure what.

 

Arthur continued to the training grounds, not having much else to do at the moment, and saw as his knights sparred against some of their guests. He laughed heartily when Gwaine took on two young knights and beat them wielding his sword with his left hand. His knights of the round table were the best fighters in the kingdom, even if people didn’t believe when he said so, and it made him happy to see them thrive.

 

He oversaw their training for another ten minutes before Percival came to stand beside him.

 

“How’s practice?” Arthur asked his tall friend, who shrugged.

 

“Practice is good, company is bad,” he said and rolled his shoulder, possibly sore after a full morning of practice. Percival was always one of the first at the training grounds, so it was no wonder that he was in the need of a small break.

 

“Was your company Gwaine?” Arthur joked and Percival let out a small laugh.

 

“I think I would have preferred Gwaine over sir Dick over there.”

 

“Sir Richard?” Arthur questioned and looked over at the knight. He was a little older than Arthur, but his full and dark beard made him look much older than he was.

 

“He is a pure-blood,” Percival explained and Arthur understood. A pure-blood was what Arthur and his knights of the round table had started calling people who absolutely despised Arthur’s decision to knight commoners - peasants - and often acted rudely towards them. Arthur had made it a habit to have them spar against either Gwaine or Lancelot just to shut them up. Once, he had given Percival a hammer and let him go to town on a particularly rude knight, who easily matched Percival in size, but couldn’t hold a candle to his talents. The knight only had Percival’s kindness to thank for still having a skull.

 

The fact that Richard was a pure-blood didn’t sit well with Arthur. Not only because it always irked him when someone had the nerve to say that his knights didn’t deserve to be serving Camelot, but because Merlin had a sharp tongue and didn’t know when to shut up. Arthur figured that it was only a matter of time before Merlin inevitably said the wrong thing and Richard would come to him to complain about his incompetent servant.

 

“Where’s Lancelot?” Arthur asked, looking for his knight and Percival shrugged.

 

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him today.”

 

Arthur nodded and left the training grounds. He should probably be doing something more princely, but the whole swapping of servants, an annoying pure-blood and a Lancelot not at practice was all a bit weird.

 

He didn’t really know where to search for Lancelot other than his quarters - where he obviously wasn’t - so he went back to his own room, to wait for whenever Merlin would come back. Luckily for him, Merlin was already there, sorting out his newly washed clothes and selecting what Arthur would wear for the evening’s feast. Today was the last day of politics, so the feast would be celebratory and bigger than the previous nights.

 

“Merlin! Just the person I was looking for,” he said upon entering his chambers and his servant rolled his eyes.

 

“Let me guess, you want me to polish your armor and sharpen your sword and muck out the stables and-”

 

“None of that actually,” Arthur interrupted, “Except for the armor being polished, you should do that before the tournament tomorrow.”

 

Merlin shook his head and chuckled, before he finished with the clothes and began cleaning Arthur’s room, “So what did you want from me, sire?” Merlin added the ‘sire’ almost mockingly, but Arthur shrugged it off.

 

“Why are you working for sir Richard?”

 

“Carolina asked me swap because-”

 

“Sir Ronald’s quarters were close to the kitchens, yes, she told me, but we both know that’s a lie so why-” Arthur stopped when he noticed something weird about Merlin, “- why are you using your left hand to clean the table?”

 

“You think that has something to do with Carolina lying to you?” Merlin smirked and continued his chores.

 

“Just answer the question.”

 

“I twisted it when I moved sir Richard’s stuff into his quarters. So many stairs,” he sighed.

 

“You’re lying,” Arthur said blatantly, “You were fine yesterday, and you were fine the day he came.”

 

Arthur couldn’t fathom why Merlin would lie to him. He had always taken Merlin for the brutally honest type, unable to lie and just as unwilling to do it. And yet, the lie had slipped from Merlin’s lips so easily that if Arthur hadn’t been thinking about all of these things already, he would never have noticed.

 

Merlin looked stunned, he looked exactly like someone would when they had been caught in a lie, and Arthur waited patiently for an explanation and when Merlin didn’t give him one, he walked over to his servant determined to find out what was going on.

 

He made a move to take Merlin’s wrist, wanting to inspect it, but Merlin withdrew his hand and took a step back, clearly not wanting Arthur to see. And this was another puzzle. Surely, Merlin knew that he wasn’t getting out of this, so why was he so reluctant to just, for once, do as he was told.

 

“Merlin,” Arthur said sternly, “Let me see.”

 

“That’s really not necessary, sire,” Merlin responded, and this time the title wasn’t said as a smug remark. He said it in the tone he used when him and Arthur were in a rough patch - whenever they didn’t get along. Usually it would pass after a couple of days if Arthur just let whatever they were disagreeing about go, but this he wouldn’t let go. He wanted to know.

 

When Merlin didn’t seem to get that Arthur was not backing down on this, Arthur, rather forcefully, took hold of Merlin’s arm and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a wrist that had just been bandaged. Arthur looked at Merlin, demanding an explanation which Merlin didn’t provide, so he just removed the wrappings to look at whatever was underneath.

 

Merlin winced a little when the last piece of the bandage left his skin and Arthur took a look at his servant’s wrist. It was completely burned. Arthur knew from his many years as a knight that the burn - while having been treated - was quite fresh and it made his stomach turn. It began from the top of his wrist, stretched further up his arm and was easily twice the size of a gold coin. It was etched deeply into his skin, as if the object that had burned him had touched his skin for a prolonged amount of time. Definitely long enough for Merlin to not just feel the pain, but suffer immensely from it.

 

“Who did this?” Arthur asked, already knowing the answer, merely needing Merlin’s confirmation to act on the anger that was slowly building up inside of him.

 

“Arthur, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Merlin almost pleaded and Arthur looked at him wildly, not understanding why Merlin was seemingly fine with this whole situation. Sure, Arthur didn’t always treat him well (in his morning blurry he knew he often threw goblets and pillows after his servant, who was really only doing his job by waking him up), but if he ever went too far, Merlin always spoke up. Arthur would never hurt Merlin like this, and Merlin should know it wasn’t okay for anyone to treat him - to abuse him - like this.

 

“Fine?” Arthur roared and Merlin pulled his wrist out of Arthur’s grip and took a step back from his angry prince, “What part of _this_ is fine?”

 

Upon looking at Merlin’s concerned face (which seemed wrong considering the circumstances. Shouldn’t Arthur be the concerned one?), he took a deep breath to steady himself.

 

“Is this why you took over for Carolina? Did he do this to her too?”

 

“No,” Merlin said quickly before Arthur could start imagining all his servants being abused by that disgusting pure-blood, “He has a… reputation with the servants, so I offered to work for him.”

 

Arthur looked at Merlin. Merlin who wasn’t a very good servant, and was thin and young and not strong enough to defend himself against a knight, and had apparently willingly volunteered himself to be abused, “Why?”

 

“He can’t hurt me,” Merlin said and gave him a small smile, and Arthur could only wrinkle his brow in confusion.

 

“Can’t hurt you… Merlin, did he hit your head too? He _burned_ you. He did hurt you.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin shook his head, “What I meant was that he can’t hurt me as much as the others.”

 

“And why is that?” Arthur asked, and picked up the bandage from the ground to wrap Merlin’s wrist again. He didn’t want to see the burn anymore.

 

“Because I’m yours.”

 

“What?”

 

“If a knight accused any other servant of even the smallest crime or incompetence, they can have them fired, but not me. Only _you_ can fire me, so when we get rude guests like this, I always offer my service.”

 

“You’ve done this before?” Arthur asked, not knowing what else to say. He finished wrapping Merlin’s wrist and his servant bit his lip when Arthur secured the bandage tightly.

 

“Yes, although I’ve never been burned before.”

 

“You say that as if you’ve been abused otherwise,” Arthur said darkly and Merlin looked like he wanted to lie, but apparently decided against it.

 

“Usually they just punch or kick me, and I can deal with that. No one wants to hurt me so badly that I can’t get their chores done.”

 

Arthur wanted to hug Merlin. He didn’t do it, but he wanted to. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Couldn’t believe that Merlin so willingly let himself be abused and had never, never even once, told Arthur about it. Was he afraid of how Arthur would react? Afraid that Arthur would look at him differently? He would have been right. Arthur had a new found respect for his servant, and once again had it confirmed that despite how useless Merlin sometimes seemed, he was brave and kind-hearted, and someone was going to pay for this.

 

“I find it hard to believe that Gaius would keep quiet about something like this,” Arthur said to change the topic slightly. He knew how protective Gaius was of his ward and he honestly couldn’t imagine that the old physician wouldn’t send someone to hell over this.

 

“Yeah, he doesn’t know,” Merlin said nonchalantly.

 

“Then who treated you?” Arthur asked. He would have assumed that Merlin could tend to himself if it was just bruises and perhaps a sprain somewhere, but a burn? That stuff hurt like hell, and the remedies against them were almost unbearable. Arthur knew from experience.

 

“Lancelot helped me,” Merlin confessed, and suddenly it all clicked together. Arthur wasn’t sure if he liked all these new revelations. He could have accepted and understood if Gaius knew, but Lancelot? Was Merlin really that much closer to the knight than he was with Arthur, that he would go to him when he got hurt? Or was it just because Arthur was a prince.  


Sensing the confliction in Arthur, Merlin explained, “He was there when it happened, so he helped.”

 

“He was there and he didn’t stop it?” Arthur yelled, angry anew, and Merlin rolled his eyes.

 

“Arthur, listen before you do something you will regret,” Merlin said, his normal defying tone of voice finally having returned, and Arthur looked at him, awaiting the explanation of what the hell had happened.

 

“Lancelot came to take him the training grounds. They were supposed spar or whatever it is that you do with each other, but when sir Richard asked what noble house he came from, well, he didn’t react well when he found out that Lancelot… did not.”

 

“I would ask what this has to do with you, but I assume that you said something you shouldn’t have.”

 

“You know me so well, sire,” Merlin grinned as if this entire story wasn’t leading up to him getting burned, “I told him that it didn’t matter what house Lance came from, only how good he was with a sword and how loyal he was. That was when he send Lance out of his chambers and gave me this,” Merlin gestured to his wrist, “He left immediately afterwards and Lance helped me treat it.”

 

“And you just… let him do it?”

 

“I have learned that resisting usually makes it worse, and he’s still here for a couple of days so I don’t want to know what his ‘worse’ is.”

 

Arthur shook his head in disbelief, and slowly made up his mind. He turned on his heel and exited his room.

 

“Arthur?” Merlin called after him, slowly catching up to him in the hallway, “What are you doing?”

 

“Making him pay.”

 

“Arthur, no, your father wouldn’t approve. I’m just a servant.”

 

“You keep telling me that I’m not my father, so just watch as I do the right thing that he would supposedly disapprove of.”

 

“Not supposedly, Arthur, definitely.”

 

“A knight should behave with honor and respect. You are one of the citizens of Camelot that he has sworn to protect. I don’t see why my father would disapprove of me reminding him of the Knight’s Code.”

 

They ran into Leon in the hallway on their way to the training grounds where Arthur had last seen sir Dick. It looked like Leon had something to say, but he held his tongue after one look at Arthur’s face. He fell into tempo with Arthur and Merlin, and Arthur heard his servant whisper to Leon: “Whatever he’s about to do, I swear I tried to stop him.”

 

“When he’s like this, there isn’t much to be done,” Leon replied quietly and Arthur decided to just ignore them. He was doing the right thing.

 

When Arthur saw sir Dick at the training grounds sparring with Elyan, he somehow got more angry just looking at his face. Him and Elyan seemed evenly matched, but Elyan’s advantage was in different terrain where he could fully utilize his flexible style. Arthur took pride in his knights of the round table and this pure-blood was about to pay for what he had done and what he had said.

 

Arthur came up to the two knights sparring, and upon seeing him, they both immediately stopped. None of them had a chance to ask what he was doing before Arthur had thrown his glove at Sir Dick’s feet to challenge him.

 

“What reason do you have to challenge me, my lord?” He asked, glancing at the glove.

 

“You know why,” Arthur snarled, “Now pick it up.” The knight accepted the challenge and looked at Arthur.

 

“Did he beg you to do this?” He asked mockingly, nodding his head towards Merlin, “Did he come to your quarters crying like a little girl?”

 

Arthur was ready to take his head right then and there, but with this many people watching he wanted to avoid making a bigger scene, “Tomorrow, noon,” he simply said and the knight took off, knowing that he was dismissed.

 

“Not that I’m disagreeing with you wanting to kill him-” Gwaine said, coming out of nowhere.

 

“I’m not going to kill him,” Arthur clarified, even if he really wanted to. He was going to publicly defeat him and then declare his punishment. He was toying with banishment, but for now he was undecided.

 

“Sure princess,” the rowdy knight continued, “I just wanted to know why you challenged him. I dislike pure-bloods as much as you, but we can handle ourselves.”

 

Arthur looked at Gwaine, wanting to explain why he was so worked up, but he thought that this would be for Merlin to share if he wanted to.

 

“I have my reasons,” he simply replied and walked back to the castle. He had to tell his father about tomorrow’s challenge.

 

It did not take him long to find his father, however, as the king was employed with state affairs and surrounded by a great number of knights and lords, Arthur decided to wait until he could have a private moment with him. There was a good chance that his father would not take well to his challenge and if they were to engage in a loud argument, it would be better to do so in private.

 

Arthur merely let his father know that he would like to have a moment of his time when he could grant it to him, and begrudgingly went back to the training grounds to beat something up. He was still raging with anger, and perhaps he should let off some steam before talking with his father about these matters. He wanted to be able to keep a cool head if he were to convince his father than he was doing the right thing.

 

This was the third time Arthur had come to the training grounds today, and the knights were beginning to notice his odd behavior, but no one dared ask him. Merlin had quietly followed Arthur everywhere he went, apologizing to everyone who came too close to the prince and got frightened by his temper. After Arthur had bumped into the third servant, Merlin urged him to at least watch where he was walking, but Arthur had barely registered that he had spoken. So Merlin, knowing where he was headed, walked in front of him, steering other people out of the way.

 

Finally, at the training grounds, Merlin equipped Arthur with some light armor and a dull sword, while Gwaine bravely volunteered to be Arthur’s first opponent. It wasn’t much of a fair fight as Gwaine was already tired after a day’s practice and Arthur was on murderous path. After having defeated Gwaine, Arthur moved onto spar against Elyan and started feeling himself calming down. Or maybe it was merely his energy leaving him as practice (if it could be called that) dragged on.

 

Merlin was still there, watching Arthur’s every move. At some point he showed Gwaine his wrist, likely telling him why Arthur was so angry, and Gwaine got a grim look on his face. Gwaine was just as, if not more, protective of Merlin than Arthur was, even if he did sometimes try to convince Arthur that Merlin was capable of taking care of himself. Arthur believed this to be because he knew Merlin better, because a person who so often tripped over their feet couldn’t possibly be trusted to take care of themselves. And this incident just proved it. Merlin might be brave, probably braver than all the knights, because it took guts to willingly walk into a situation you knew would hurt you when you couldn’t even defend yourself, but you couldn’t fight people with bravery alone.

 

Arthur was getting worked up again. He didn’t understand Merlin. Not in this. He used to think he knew everything about his servant, and to an extent he still did. As shocked as he had been about the incident, this wasn’t exactly something that was unlike Merlin. It was dumb and it came from a place of kindness with a total disregard of himself. The action itself, Arthur understood. What he didn’t understand was why Merlin had kept it to himself. Why all of the servants had kept it to themselves. Merlin had said that Sir Dick had a reputation. That meant that he must have done it before and the servants all knew this as Merlin had taken him on, and none of them, not a single one of them, had spoken about it. No, they had covered it up, lied to him, while Merlin had gotten hurt. He couldn’t believe that the other servants had so willingly turned their backs on Merlin, and he found it hard to accept that Merlin wouldn’t tell him. Didn’t Merlin always urge Arthur to always tell him what was on his mind? Didn’t Merlin always tell Arthur when he didn’t like something? He had spoken out about the stupid rule keeping commoners from being knights. He had spoken out about Arthur marrying out of convenience rather than love. Merlin was not the kind of person to keep silent about what he thought was unjust. So what was different this time? Why was Merlin so adamant about not letting Arthur know, about not wanting Arthur to make wrong right.

 

Arthur launched out in frustration and Elyan fell over in defeat. He was soon replaced by Leon, who was then replaced by Percival when he too got forced on his back. When Percival had to admit defeat, no one else stepped up and Arthur threw his training sword at the ground. Merlin took this as a cue to help Arthur out of his armor, and was immediately by his side. It was only then that Arthur noticed Merlin’s difficulty with unhooking the straps. His right wrist didn’t bend properly, and it seemed to be painful for him to even use it. When he tried again with his left hand, however, his clumsy fingers couldn’t get around the straps properly, and Arthur felt a pang of guilt knowing that if he had not noticed Merlin’s burn he would have yelled at him for being so incompetent. Instead he let Merlin fumble about until he finally got Arthur out of the armor.

 

A guard soon appeared in front of Arthur and informed him that his father now had time to see him.

 

His father was in his quarters, getting changed for the banquet later, and hardly acknowledged Arthur as he walked in, Merlin still dutifully following him (he suspected he wanted to try and reign in some of Arthur’s anger, but Arthur honestly didn’t know what Merlin could do when the king of Camelot - who didn’t seem to like him much - was also in the room).

 

“You were missed during the signing ceremony,” his father began as his servant bowed to the king and was dismissed, “I assume you are here to tell me why.”

 

“I have challenged sir Richard to a duel by the knights’ rule,” Arthur started, not wanting this to drag out longer than was needed. His father, the king, looked at him as if searching for signs of Arthur having gone mad.

 

“On what grounds have you issued this challenge?”

 

“For having no honor, my lord,” Arthur began, “He disrespected my knights and mistreated his servant, an act which is only the latest of many incidents.”

 

“And by _your knights,_ I assume you mean… those four,” His father gestured vaguely and Arthur had to bite his lip from saying something he would probably regret. Uther was a pure-blood as well.

 

“Those _four,_ ” Arthur said sharply, “are some of the finest knights in the kingdom and to disrespect them is the same as disrespecting me.”

 

“Arthur, it is not exactly dishonorable to question your knights. If that is all your challenge is based on then I suggest you apologize to sir Richard and withdraw the challenge.”

 

Arthur would have yelled if Uther wasn’t the king. If he was _just_ his father, he would definitely have yelled: “I told you, he mistreats his servants. I would have challenged him based on that alone. How can a knight who is sworn to protect the people of Camelot also be the one to inflict pain on those people? It is dishonorable.”

 

“Sir Richard is an honorable knight, and has been so for longer than you. If he has harmed - as you so say - a servant, he likely did so with a good reason. Servants talk, they probably exaggerated the extent of his punishment. Besides, you didn’t exactly assign him the brightest of servants,” Uther finished and sent Merlin a look.

 

“I saw the damage,” Arthur growled, feeling Merlin taking a step closer to him, “There was nothing just about what sir Richard did and I will go through with the challenge. I merely came to inform you that it will take place before the tournament starts tomorrow and I will not be attending tonight’s banquet.”

 

“Arthur!” His father roared disapprovingly, “You have neglected your duties enough today. I demand that you at least make an appearance at the banquet.”

 

“For sir Richard’s own safety, I will not be attending. That is my decision, father, do not try to change my mind.”

 

Arthur left before his father could say another word. Merlin on the other hand…

 

“Arthur,” he hissed, the disapproving tone in his voice mirroring his father’s, “You have to go to banquet! What were you thinking?”

 

“That sir Dick would lose his head before tomorrow if I attended,” Arthur said and heard Merlin gasp horrified by the nickname, but otherwise he shot up and followed Arthur to his room, mumbling about how he couldn’t possibly go back to sir Richard now, so he could finally clean Arthur’s room.

 

Arthur spent his hours catching up on whatever he had missed during today’s meetings. When evening rolled around, Merlin disappeared for a short while, only to return with some of the food from the banquet to give to Arthur.

 

“I’m not hungry,” Arthur said honestly, but Merlin didn’t listen (when did he ever), put down the food and set the table for Arthur who could only sigh. Thinking back, he hadn’t eaten much today so Merlin’s instance that he eat was justified and for once he did as he servant wanted of him.

 

“Eat with me,” Arthur said and gestured to the chair across from him, “I can’t eat all of this by myself.”

 

Merlin looked like he wanted to decline, but if Arthur was right he hadn’t eaten much today either, so in the end Merlin set the table for one more and joined Arthur for dinner.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur asked, knowing that now that he had some of the truth, Merlin wouldn’t be so dumb as to keep up with the lies.

 

“Because you’ve challenged a knight to dual of which one of you will die,” Merlin deadpanned, and Arthur just looked at him.

 

“You couldn’t know that I would do that.”

 

“I knew you would do _something,_ ” Merlin said and rolled his eyes, “You always do things without thinking, and look at how your father reacted. You shouldn’t have done that.”

 

Arthur shook his head as he had done so many times that day. He really didn’t get Merlin sometimes. But he wanted to, he wanted to understand what went through his servant’s head, so that hopefully this sort of thing would never happen again.

 

“I still don’t understand,” he confesses, “It wasn’t just you, but the other servants didn’t say anything. Not this time or any time in the past. Don’t they trust that we, that I, would do something about it?”

 

Merlin sighed and put down his fork. He debated for a while how to tell Arthur, or maybe what to tell Arthur, it wasn’t entirely clear, he just knew that Merlin was debating something.

 

“I made them promise not to tell you,” he finally said, and Arthur looked at him waiting for an explanation, when it didn’t immediately follow. Merlin sighed again, “It’s not like it’s easy for them to just let me take all the rude ones on, but as I said, I usually have it the easiest. But I know you, and I know you wouldn’t take it well if you knew, so in exchange for swapping duties, I make them promise not to tell you, so that I could avoid… _this._ They didn’t want to lie to you, Arthur, I know. They’ve tried to convince me many times before that I should tell you, but I never got hurt badly enough that it really mattered.”

 

“Except today,” Arthur said and looked at Merlin’s wrist.

 

“Except today.”  


“But even today you didn’t want to tell me. Why?”  


“Force of habit, I suppose,” Merlin said at first, “But I still didn’t want you to know. I am capable of taking care of myself, and now you’re doing _this._ ” Merlin gestured to the food in front of him, “As happy as I am to serve you, this is something that I kind of liked doing by myself. It is one of the few things where the person I’m helping isn’t you. It felt rewarding.”

 

Arthur couldn’t help but smile a little, “That’s very selfish of you.”  


“I suppose it is.”

 

Together they managed to get through all of the food Merlin had brought up for Arthur, and after several trips to the kitchen - since Arthur had insisted that Merlin shouldn’t put more strain on his wrist than he already had - the table was clean and Arthur prepared to rest for the night, wanting to be as ready for tomorrow as he could be. Even with the challenge, he still had the tournament to go through, and he couldn’t afford to slack of in any event.

 

As if sent from heaven, Gwen came to help Merlin get Arthur ready in the morning (after he had eaten and bathed of course). Arthur didn’t know if Gwen knew of Merlin’s injury, but as a part of the servant staff, she would undoubtedly know about Merlin and his antics. Arthur wondered if she too had been saved by Merlin at one point, and had promised not to tell a soul about it. Arthur figured that she would have since she had never told him anything.

 

They didn’t exchange many words, but before Arthur could make his way to the fighting arena, she wished him good luck. It was hard to resist kissing her, so Arthur doubled checked that no one could catch them before he leaned down to kiss her and promise her that he would win. Her reassuring smile made him feel stronger as left to fight.

 

Sir Dick was already waiting by the arena by the time that Arthur got there, and Arthur counted himself lucky that it was almost noon because he couldn’t wait to wipe that stupid smug off of his face. From the whispers around them, it was clear that very few people knew why Arthur had issued a challenge in the first place, but there was still an overwhelming support for the crown prince.

 

There were more spectators than there usually would be at events like these, but it was all because of the tournament. Arthur could see as the knights around him prepared themselves for later, while only a few - namely his knights of the round table - had already gathered to watch Arthur beat this jerk into the ground.

 

Just before noon, his father arrived and took his place on the makeshift throne close by the arena. Silence fell as he held up his hand to speak.

 

“Citizens of Camelot,” he spoke, “Today we are gathered for a tournament to celebrate the strengthening of our kingdom. The knights of Camelot will show the strength and honor of our proud nation, and the last one standing shall be rewarded with five hundred gold coins. However, before the tournament can begin, we shall bear witness to duel between sir Richard of House Cunningham and the crown prince, Arthur Pendragon. The dual shall be by the knight’s code and to the death,” he finished and the two knights donned their helmets before facing each other and waiting for the signal to begin.  


Arthur was confident. There were few knights in Camelot who could even be considered a worthy match for him these days, and even fewer who had a chance of defeating him. Sir Dick was not one of those people. Arthur looked to the edge of the arena to find Gwaine smiling smugly, undoubtedly expecting to enjoy the display Arthur was about to give them all. Arthur took a deep breath just before the gong echoed throughout the arena.

 

Sir Dick charged first, but his stance was wide and Arthur easily dodged his sword, and moved in to thrust his sword into his side. Dick took a step backwards, but didn’t falter and attacked once more. This time, Arthur didn’t have time to dodge so he merely blocked with his shield, Dick’s power being inferior to the knights he usually trained with and easily fending him off. He let Dick try a few more times, and skillfully avoided any swing of his sword and thrust of his shield. Arthur didn’t usually taunt his opponents like this, usually fought with honor and defeated his opponents quickly and swiftly when he was this superior, but all such thoughts didn’t even cross Arthur’s mind today. For every second he looked at his opponent’s face, he got more and more enraged. It wasn’t just for what he had done to Merlin and all those servants before him. It was because this man was living proof of everything that was wrong with this kingdom. The dismissal of the knights who didn’t come from nay noble family. The disregard for the lives of people who were deemed as nothing more than simple peasants. The ignorance, dishonesty and lack of honor which some people who dared call themselves knights of Camelot possessed. All of that as well as Arthur’s blindness to all of it for all those years it had been going on and he had turned a blind eye. This man represented so many things Arthur despised and today he would destroy those things.

 

Arthur finally began to fight back, his first attack disarming sir Dick of his shield which made the crowd cheer for him. He could faintly hear Elyan’s signature whistle somewhere behind him, as well as Leon’s cheers. Arthur smiled, knowing that his knights were supporting him, and blocked sir Dick’s next attempt at him. Arthur blocked his sword with his own, and with his opponent stuck in place, he kicked him to the ground, forced the sword out of his hand and held his blade to his throat. It was too easy.

 

“I have no desire to take your life, but you can no longer be a knight of Camelot. You will renounce your title and return home knowing that what you have done was lacking in honor and duty.”  


Sir Richard didn’t answer, but his eyes looked pleading so Arthur retracted his sword and stepped away from his defeated opponent. By all means, that should have been the end, but it wasn’t. Sir Dick was quickly back on his feet, sword once again in hand as he charged at Arthur, one last attempt at defeating him. Arthur didn’t hesitate when he ran his sword through him, the blood soiling his blade and the life leaving his eyes. Arthur had no regrets.


	2. My Sacrifice is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tournament begins, Agravaine and Merlin are at odds and Arthur takes his knights to Mercia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I was supposed to upload this yesterday, but alas, I'm currently moving and I don't have any internet yet (I'm uploading from a friend's house). The next chapter should be up within ten days if I have my way.
> 
> Regardless, enjoy!

The tournament went on without a single break. When a fight ended, another one began immediately, so even if Arthur’s first match didn’t follow directly after his duel with Sir Dick, he could still feel that his first opponent in the tournament was better rested than him - or at least, less exhausted. After he had killed Sir Dick, his father hadn’t said a word, merely looked at him with that same disapproving look in his eyes that he had had ever since he had learned of Arthur’s knights of the round table.   

Arthur had hoped that this tournament would be a turning point for his father and his opinions of his knights. He had seen Gwaine fight once about a year ago, but the others he knew nothing about. Or, well, he knew about Lancelot, but that entire incident was rooted in lies and misconceptions, and since he had never seen Lancelot fight, Arthur could at least understand his reluctant attitude towards him. For the others though, his father had no excuse and Arthur hoped that his four new knights would prove to both the king and the rest of Camelot that they not only deserved to be here, proudly wearing the Pendragon crest on their armor, but that they were even better than the noblemen who looked down upon them.   

So far, it was going well. Lancelot probably beat a record in how fast he won his first match, and Elyan used his quick movements and flexible nature to put on somewhat of a show as he advanced to the next round. Arthur counted himself lucky that he wouldn’t have to fight any of them until the semi-finals, where he expected to meet either Leon or Elyan - depending on who won that match - and it gave him time to recover a little. Merlin was quite attentive today, making sure that under the heat of the sun, Arthur was always fully hydrated and never wore his armor for too long. Gwen was close by too, tending to Gwaine, Lancelot and Elyan when they needed water or help with their armor. Merlin would usually help her, but with his hurt wrist, taking care of Arthur was all he could manage.   

By the semi-finals, it was only knights of the round table left. Percival had lost to Gwaine, when they had been fighting for a place in the semi-finals, and Leon had taken down Elyan, and thus become Arthur’s opponent. But before they could determine who would fight in the final match, it was Lancelot and Gwaine, and _oh_ did Arthur look forward to seeing this. The two of them often sparred against each other, keeping score of their victories. They were more or less evenly matched when it came to sword fighting, but Lancelot had an advantage when it came to spears and staffs, while Gwaine preferred heavier artillery such as a maze or a hammer. But this was a sword fight, and it was one that had something at stake, so Arthur was curious as to who would win. Having seen the two of them fight in the tournament, it seemed that the rest of Camelot was quite interested as well.   

“Who do you think will win?” Arthur asked Merlin who was a little closer to both knights than Arthur himself. Merlin considered the dilemma before answering.

“Depends, but I think if Lance could hold off Gwaine for a bit he could wear him down. Gwaine should be pretty tired after fighting Percival. But Gwaine always has something to give. I wouldn’t be surprised if he disarmed Lance within ten seconds.”

Arthur looked at Merlin, almost proudly. It was a very good assessment, and he agreed that the longer the match went on, the better Lancelot’s odds were.   

It was no surprise that Gwaine charged first, and Arthur was almost surprised to see Lancelot being so on the defense. Maybe Gwaine wasn’t as tired as he would have thought? It was also quite clear from their match that they were used to spar against each other. Gwaine moved quicker against Lancelot than he had the entire tournament, and Lancelot took better use of his shield.   

As Gwaine went in for his fifth blow, Lancelot blocked the attack with his sword rather than his shield, pivoted on his right foot and pushed Gwaine with his shield, trying to tackle the knight to the ground. Although Gwaine had to step back to regain his balance, he remained upright and freed his sword from Lancelot’s hold and attacked once again, this time aiming for Lancelot’s knees. The attack was successful and Lancelot was forced to drop to his knees, but blocked Gwaine’s attempt at taking him out completely, and managed to disarm Gwaine of his sword.   

Lancelot quickly got back up, and charged at Gwaine who now only had his shield. Gwaine blocked his entire upper body with the shield, and ran against Lancelot, their forces colliding and both of them taking a tumble. Lancelot’s momentary confusion gave Gwaine enough time to throw his shield at the other knight and get to his sword. As he was a man of honor, and probably also a man who was getting exhausted from Gwaine’s relentless attacks, Lancelot threw his own shield to the ground, making the fight fair as Gwaine charged again. Their rally went on for half a minute before, finally, Lancelot disarmed Gwaine as the knight had gotten careless in his attack, and tackled him to the ground, claiming victory.   

Gwaine lay defeated on the ground for a second before Lancelot offered a hand and helped him to his feet. Both knights bowed to the cheering audience and Lancelot advanced to the finals, where he would meet the winner of the next match.   

As Arthur entered the arena, he gave Gwaine - who was leaving it with Lancelot - a firm slap on the shoulder to show his sympathies. He had often found himself on his back with Lancelot’s sword at his throat, but it was reassuring to know that there was no man more loyal or honorable than Lancelot, and Gwaine probably didn’t take the defeat hard. Rather, it would fuel his will to win the next tournament they would compete in.   

Arthur had fought against Leon many times in tournaments like these, although usually they would end up fighting in the finale together. Today, it would be just one of them who would make it there. After a full day of fighting top tier knights, both of them would be exhausted. Arthur had fought one more match than Leon due to his challenge, but Leon was possibly still recovering from his fight against Elyan, so they were both equally exhausted. Yet, none of their moves were sloppy as they charged forward. They were experiences knights of Camelot and they were used to fighting under less than ideal circumstances.   

Just like with the previous match, Arthur and Leon knew each other well, knew their opponents habits, strengths and weaknesses. Fighting against Leon like this was like an instinct that Arthur had slowly developed, and he almost was unaware of what he was doing until he tackled Leon to the ground, winning the match.   

It felt right that he would be up against Lancelot in the finals. Lancelot was one of the finest knights in Camelot, probably the finest. While his swordsman skills could be matched by a few, Lancelot upheld himself to a standard of honor that even Arthur couldn’t claim to do. Arthur wouldn’t throw the match just to prove a point to his father, but if Lancelot ended up winning, Arthur would be proud and have proof that he hadn’t made a mistake by taking in Lancelot and the others.   

Arthur charged first, but was easily blocked by Lancelot and forced backwards with one smooth thrust. Lancelot then went in for a blow, showing an aggression he rarely let out, which caught Arthur slightly off guard. This was going to be fun. They went back and forth for a while until Arthur forced Lancelot up against the barrier of the arena, forcing Lancelot to thrust his shield against Arthur and then abandon it completely. Arthur threw his shield aside as well, and swung at Lancelot, who moved his sword from his right to left hand, not only blocking Arthur but leaving him wide open for Lancelot to kick him from the side, and force him to the ground. Arthur registered as Lancelot kicked his sword out of his hand and knelt over him, sword hovering above him and ending the match.   

Arthur let out a laugh as he let Lancelot help him to his feet and slapped the knight on his back, urging him to enjoy his victory. Arthur looked to the stands and wanted to be surprised when his father looked away. He hated that he wasn’t.   

He left the arena before Lancelot, letting the people of Camelot soak up their new champion and met Merlin who was ready with a goblet of water. Arthur readily drank it as he let Merlin fumble with his armor, attempting to take it off.

“Do you need help with that?” Arthur asked, not as teasing as he normally would have, and Merlin merely shook his head, clearly determined to carry through with the task no matter how much his wrist hurt. Arthur toyed with the idea of ordering Merlin to take the rest of the day off, but his disobedient servant was always adamant about working when Arthur didn’t really want him to, while he was sloppy in the times where Arthur wanted him to be efficient. Rather than just end up not being listened to, Arthur let Merlin do what he wanted, only poking fun of him a couple of times as Merlin kept dropping things he tried to hold with his left hand.   

Arthur did, however, help Merlin carry the armor much to the confusion of the surrounding knights, who were unaware of Merlin’s injury. Arthur tried not to think about how they probably still would have disapproved of Arthur helping even if they knew. Or at least, some of them would. Quite a few of the knights were fond of Merlin - probably due to the food he cooked them when they went hunting or on patrols - but the number was still far less than Arthur liked. But there were perks of being crown prince; no one could tell him what to do (except for the king himself, but he was still occupied with crowning Lancelot the champion of the tournament).   

Arthur was quick to tell Merlin that he needed his armor polished, believing that it was the one activity that would cause the least strain on Merlin’s wrist, and made it sound urgent so that it would be taking up the rest of Merlin’s day. Besides, Arthur was exhausted and after he’d had a light meal he would definitely hit the hay. A fight to the death followed by an exhausting tournament which all ended with him fighting Lancelot - that would exhaust anyone and Arthur knew that he would feel sore when he woke tomorrow. Arthur briefly wondered how angry his father would be with him as he had no desire to join him or the other lords for dinner, but decided that claiming to have been tired would be good enough. His father was unlikely to be well enough after so many busy days to actually be fully angry at him, and while it saddened Arthur that the effects of Morgana’s betrayal still hadn’t been healed, Arthur was going to take advantage of it. Besides, his father had Agravaine who was a friend to the crown. It was all going to be fine if Arthur wanted to go to sleep early.   

Arthur had a maid bring him dinner, but the maid he had sent to fetch it didn’t bring it to him, his uncle did.

“Uncle,” Arthur greeted as the man stepped into his chambers and set the food down on Arthur’s table, “What brings you here?”

“I simply wanted to congratulate you on your efforts today,” his uncle replied respectfully and Arthur gestured for him to take a seat.

“I believe you should be giving your congratulations to sir Lancelot,” Arthur noted, and Agravaine made a gesture to show that Arthur was right.

“Yes, but you dealt with an issue before the tournament, which in consideration gave you a disadvantage in the tournament. It is hard to say who would have won if the fight had been fair.”

“Lancelot is more than worthy of winning the tournament,” Arthur said, perhaps a little too harshly, “While it is a first in public, I can assure you that I have often found myself on my back with Lancelot’s sword above me in practice. He is probably my finest swordsman.”

“You do know your knights better than I do, sire,” Agravaine said humbly, but Arthur knew that his uncle wasn’t here for small talk, he rarely was.

“Why did you come, uncle?”

“I wished to confirm the reason for you challenge,” Agravaine confessed, “Your father refused to speak of it, which I could hardly take as a good sign.”

Arthur scoffed. His father didn’t even want people to know why he had killed a man this morning, “I merely corrected a wrong,” Arthur explained, “Sir Richard was a disrespectful knight, devoid of honor, and after learning of some of his deeds, I couldn’t let it pass.”

“And what would those deeds be?”

“Speaking ill of my knights among other things,” Arthur said and gave his uncle a look to show that that was the end of the conversation. Merlin was clearly not comfortable with people knowing what the knight had done to him, so he would keep the secret.

“I see,” his uncle said, contemplating, “While I am sure you acted honorably, I will advise you to not make hasty decisions like those again. You can’t very well be seen turning on your own knights over any small disagreement you might have.”   

Arthur had to bite his tongue, when Agravaine had said _small disagreement,_ but appreciated that his uncle gave him his honest council nonetheless, “I will take that into consideration, uncle, but do know that I have no regards where sir Richard is - or was - concerned.”

“I understand, sire,” Agravaine said, finally closing the topic, “Now, there is the matter of your upcoming journey. I wish to discuss the route you will take to Mercia,” Agravaine said, his tone full of diplomacy and he unfolded a map on the table, “I would suggest avoiding as many of the outlying villages as possible, to maintain discretion. People talk and even without intention, information of your travels could quickly make it your enemies. I would suggest this route here,” Agravaine stroke his finger across the parchment, drawing an invisible route on the map, which would take Arthur and his knights through rough terrain, but far from civilization.   

Arthur studied the route for a while, before agreeing with his uncle. He was going on a diplomatic trip to Mercia to discuss a part of a trading deal they had made back when their alliance had first been formed, and Arthur would like to make it there uninjured and in one piece. He would like for his companions to do the same, and a small group like theirs could easily go by unnoticed on the route Agravaine had suggested.   

By the time they had finished discussing Arthur’s upcoming journey, Agravaine politely excused himself and Arthur finally returned to his now cold food. He could really use a bath, but he didn’t want to ask Merlin and with guests still occupying the castle, Arthur couldn’t ask another servant to take the time to do something as trivial as drawing a bath. It was getting late anyway and Arthur just went to sleep.

It was rare that Arthur didn’t wake to the sound of Merlin’s voice. At first, he thought he had woken by his own account and that Merlin was actually resting as he should be, but he soon heard the soft steps that meant Merlin was likely listing about in his room, trying to tidy a little before waking Arthur up. As the prince was… not fond of mornings, he let Merlin do what he wanted, pretending to be asleep for as long as he could. Arthur almost got up when someone opened the door, thinking that his presence was needed somewhere, but when he heard Merlin hurry to the door, he decided to wait out the situation.

“Could I speak to Arthur?” Arthur heard his uncle’s voice ask, not trying to lower his voice to let him sleep in peace and quiet.

“I am afraid that the prince is quite tired after yesterday’s tournament,” Merlin said, respect and truth nowhere to be found in his tone or statement, “He has requested that no one disturb him unless it is of the utmost importance, which I doubt your matter is considering your calm demeanor.”

There was a second of silence, and Arthur thought he heard his uncle begin a sentence before Merlin cut him off, “I apologize, my lord, but we should let the prince rest, should we not?”

“Of course,” Agravaine said somewhat coldly, “Please inform him that I would like to speak with him in my chambers when he finds time.” Merlin didn’t respond and soon the door closed again. Merlin merely returned to his cleaning duties.   

The exchange was odd, Arthur thought as he continued his pretense of sleep. Merlin was usually quite respectful to nobles who were not Arthur, but Merlin had not only been disrespectful, rude and cold to his uncle, he had straight up lied to him. All because… Why had Merlin lied? As far as Arthur was concerned, Merlin didn’t care about Arthur’s rest. And certainly not when Arthur had seemingly been sleeping for as long as he had this night. And the way he had spoken, it had been so unlike Merlin that Arthur could almost convince himself that he was still sleeping and just dreaming it all up. Merlin never showed dislike or hatred for anyone unless they were trying to kill him and Arthur, but if Arthur didn’t know better, he would have thought that Merlin hated Agravaine, which wasn’t right. The two of them rarely interacted, and they always did so when Arthur was near, since Merlin was usually with him, so why on earth did Merlin not like Agravaine? Arthur couldn’t figure it out, and he blamed it all on only being half-awake.   

It wasn’t long after Agravaine had left that Merlin opened the curtains and woke Arthur up, his breakfast already set up on the table for Arthur to eat. Seeing Merlin’s bright smile only helped Arthur believe that he must have misinterpreted something from Agravaine’s short visit, but as the morning went on and Merlin gave on update on his duties for the day, Arthur noticed that he never once mentioned Agravaine to him.   

Arthur spent most of the day attending to council matters as his father rested for the day, and by the time it was all over, he was really ready for a bath. Some of their guests had already left, so perhaps Arthur could persuade Merlin to have one of the other servants help with drawing the bath. Knowing that he had told Merlin to sew up some of his torn shirts, he expected Merlin to be in his own room, where Gaius could reach him if he needed the assistance of his ward, so that was where Arthur headed.   

It didn’t take long for him to reach the physicians quarters, but he was surprised to hear Lancelot’s voice coming from the other side of the door. Eavesdropping wasn’t a very honorable act, but Arthur didn’t want to disturb them, knowing that they rarely had time to talk. Besides, Arthur wasn’t in a hurry, he could wait a couple of minutes to let two friends chat.   

“You could have told Arthur earlier and avoided this,” Lancelot said from the other side of the door, undoubtedly referring to Merlin’s wrist.

“He killed a person, Lance,” Merlin said in a voice Arthur could describe as desperate, “That was exactly what I was trying to avoid.” Arthur chuckled. It was just like Merlin to not want anyone, even people who hurt him, dead. Merlin was kind and soft like that.

“You mean a lot to him,” Lancelot said sincerely, and Arthur heard Merlin draw in a sharp breath. It occurred to Arthur that Lancelot has helping Merlin with the treatment of the burn, possibly applying clean bandages as they were speaking.   

“Yes, it is very touching that Arthur literally killed a man for me, but you saw Uther’s face. He was not happy.”

“When is he ever?” Lancelot joked, and Merlin snorted.

“Not funny,” a moment of silence, “I can’t afford to get on Uther’s bad side. He tried to banish Gwen because Arthur was in love with her, and then almost had her burned at the stake when he thought that magic _might_ have been involved. Arthur has a reputation with people like us-”

“You mean peasants,” Lancelot provided, and Arthur heard a thump. Merlin had possibly kicked or punched him lightly.

“Commoners,” Merlin corrected, “If Uther starts thinking that Arthur is even as much as considering any advice I give or in any way favors me, he will make me leave. That can’t happen Lance, you know I can’t leave Arthur.”

“I know,” Lancelot replied softly, “Arthur wouldn’t last a day without you.”

Arthur heard laughter from inside the room, and decided that he had heard enough. He walked away from the door a little, and let his steps be very audible, making sure that they could hear him coming, before opening the door without so much as knocking - that would have been suspicious.

“Arthur,” the two said in unison, Merlin a little more alarmed than Lancelot, as he made his presence known, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see if you were well enough to prepare a bath for me. You can have Lancelot here help you if carrying the water is too much for you, since he seems to be free of his duties.”

“Of course, sire,” Lancelot replied respectfully, “I’ll make sure Merlin doesn’t hurt himself further.”

“Hey! I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can,” Arthur said sarcastically and immediately left the room. He had some things to consider.   

Merlin had never been secretive in his loyalty to Arthur, so it would make sense that he wouldn’t want to leave, but his concern over being possibly banished (over something as trivial as Arthur’s actions and not his own) seemed almost paranoid to Arthur. Almost like the fear of leaving his side, made Merlin see banishment in any action he could take. Yes, his father had disapproved of the challenge, but Arthur had been the one to decide what to do and he had not told his father that Merlin had been the one to bring the matter to him - although maybe his father assumed that was the case (Sir Dick definitely had).   

Merlin had mentioned that Arthur had a _reputation._ And Arthur for the first time acknowledged that Merlin was very right about that. The incident with Gwen was publicly known (even if the common story was that their feelings had been magically induced), his sometimes casual relationship with Merlin was not exactly something he tried to hide and there was the issue of his knights, which he knew some people disapproved of. Arthur had a reputation, but unlike Merlin who seemed to fear what the consequences would be, Arthur was proud. He had been taught that noblemen were the only people he was allowed to associate with, but experience had taught him differently. Interaction with people of different status, backgrounds and life-experiences made him wiser and more knowledgeable, and Arthur already knew that when he was king, he would be a king who served his people. And to serve his people, he had to know them. Arthur had learned that from Merlin.

Because while Merlin could still improve his actual servant skills, he was the only one of his manservants who had even taken the time to ask what his favorite food was (and his favorite everything else as well. Arthur still didn’t know why Merlin felt the need to know that his favorite color was red). Merlin knowing Arthur had made him the best servant he could ask for because Arthur didn’t always need to tell Merlin what he wanted, sometimes Merlin just knew and was ready with a meal, a fresh shirt or an extra hot bath. Arthur wanted to be a king that the people could approach and know that he would listen to what they had to say regardless of status.   

With two people - and one of those people being Lancelot - it didn’t take long before Arthur’s bath was ready. When it was, Lancelot dismissed himself and only Merlin was left with Arthur as he settled into the water.   

“How’s your wrist?” Arthur asked absentmindedly, Merlin having begun to wash his back and carefully working in a light massage in the places Arthur usually tensed.

“Better,” Merlin answered simply and silence fell. It was unlike the two of them not having anything to talk about, but Arthur had been careful about insulting Merlin in the last few days. It felt inappropriate given the situation.

“I saw that our route to Mercia has been changed,” Merlin said after a while. Arthur couldn’t tell if he brought it up to have something to talk about, or if the issue bothered him.

“Yes, Agravaine suggested that we alter it for safety’s sake.”

“I can imagine,” Merlin said quietly, a spiteful sarcasm coloring the statement.

“You don’t agree?” Arthur asked instead of demanding why Merlin was being so… un-Merlin when it came to his uncle and anything he did.

“It would be better for us to take the original route,” Merlin said calmly, “It takes us past two forts within Camelot, which guarantees us a safe place to rest for two nights. The new route takes us past at least two known places that bandits use as hideouts, and we would be far away from civilization should anyone be injured and in need of medical attention. My first help knowledge can only take us so far.”

Arthur considered Merlin’s advice. There was thought behind it and where Agravaine had taken precaution when it came to information leaking out of the kingdom, Merlin considered the dangers that were already to be found in Camelot.   

“I’ll think about it,” Arthur said, not wanting Merlin’s head to explode with pride if he voiced his thoughts, “There is still time to alter the route.”

Any other servant would have said thank you. Merlin barely made a noise as he continued to massage Arthur’s shoulders.   

In the end, the route was altered to fit the wishes of both Merlin and his uncle. They avoided some of the rougher areas, which Merlin had seemed particularly skeptical of, but only visited the lord whose fort was located far from the villages in the land he governed. The trip would be slightly longer, but overall it made them less likely to be attacked or otherwise compromised. Both Merlin and Agravaine had been slightly annoyed by not being Arthur’s sole confidant and advisor, but he promptly reminded them both - in private of course - that neither of them held the position of advisor and that utilizing both of their advice had created the best possibly route for them to take. After that there was little they could say, but Arthur still felt the tension between them. As they were leaving for Mercia soon, Arthur decided to ask Merlin or Agravaine about their odd behavior when he returned.

By the time they were ready to leave, Merlin’s wrist was better and he had begun to regain control and strength of his right hand. The bandages were still there - Gaius reminding his ward to change them every now and then, even while they were traveling - but Arthur had gone back to throwing things at Merlin without feeling bad about it (although the thrown items mostly included laundry and pillows, he could upgrade to goblets when they got back).

The first two days of travel went without a hitch. The only thing Arthur was beginning to regret was the inclusion of Gwaine on this mission, only because the stories he told made him sound like an honorable hero which didn’t really fit his character. However, the fact that Gwaine was fun to bully made up for it.   

On the third day they were attacked by bandits and Arthur could almost hear Merlin’s voice saying ‘I told you so’, as they were in the exact area Merlin had urged them to avoid. But the damage was done, and the fifteen men that came at them were not a match for Arthur and his five best knights (and Merlin). The fight was exhausting, but Arthur didn’t doubt at any point that they would be victorious, and perhaps he should learn to not be so arrogant, because as the group of bandits were cut down to seven, a sixteenth member seemed to be firing arrows from somewhere. That complicated things slightly, especially as the shooter seemed to not care about how many of his friends he hurt in the process of getting to one of the knights.   

Arthur punched the bandit closest to him in the head, knocking him out immediately, and took the time to assess the situation. His knights were taking on multiple opponents, and seemed to have the upper hand, but Arthur’s heart leaped as Merlin was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t worry for long though, because the next bandit came from him and demanded his attention. Arthur only vaguely registered that the arrows had stopped.

Fate was an ironic thing. Arthur wished that he could have thought that when the bandits grew desperate and launched an all-out attack on Arthur, attempting to kill the prince using their numbers. His knights couldn’t get to him fast enough as one man approached Arthur from behind, his sword raised and ready to deal a killing blow. The effort was only stopped by Merlin who came out of seemingly nowhere to protect his prince from what would have ended his life in an instant. With nothing to defend himself with, the servant was cut down where he stood. Arthur wanted to be the one to drag Merlin away from danger, but that honor went to Lancelot who was quick to get his friend out of the crossfire to avoid further injuries being dealt, as the knights and Arthur finished off the rest of the attackers.   

Arthur ran to Merlin the instant the last man was no longer moving.

“You almost look worried, Arthur,” Merlin said with a forced smile, “Do I really mean that much to you?”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said, not understanding how Merlin could be joking around with an open wound and blood tainting his blue shirt. This was bad, Arthur thought, Merlin was their medical knowledge. He was the last person who should get hurt.   

“Tell us what to do,” Arthur ordered, knowing that Merlin could very well pass out soon and that couldn’t happen before they began treating him.

“I thought you said-”

“Merlin!”

“You need to clean the wound,” Merlin said, the smile faltering. Perhaps the adrenaline from his stupid self-sacrifice was running low and he was finally beginning to feel the pain and understand the situation they were in.

It was Lancelot who followed Merlin’s instructions about how to deal with the wound, while Arthur felt downright useless. The knights behind him were taking care of the bandits, checking for survivors and anything that would reveal if they worked for someone or anything else that could prove useful information.   

“The wound isn’t too deep,” Merlin said as Lancelot was finishing up, “So there is no need for stitching, just apply bandages and some of the salve I brought with me. It should speed up the healing.”

As Lancelot began to apply the salve, Merlin looked to Arthur and gave him another forced smile, “You don’t have to stay.”

“You’re my responsibility,” Arthur answered, trying to not to show his worry, “I will stay.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Arthur, please, I’m not dying. Just go.”

Arthur almost managed a smile, “Honestly, Merlin, I’m starting to think that you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“Maybe I am,” Merlin teased, and Arthur shook his head and got up to leave. He just managed to catch as Lancelot lifted Merlin’s shirt further to get better access to the wound, and his eyes wandered to a scar on Merlin’s abdomen that shouldn’t have been there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quite like writing Merlin and Agravaine's political battle, when I'm writing from Arthur's point of view, because he trusts them both so much and is quite unaware of everything they have going on :)


	3. My Scars are Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur notices a scar on his servant. So does his knights. It's just, they're not the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were three things that inspired me to write this story. The first one was Merlin using his status as Arthur's servant to his advantage as seen in chapter one. The second thing was scar the thing that went down in this chapter. The third one, well, the third one is coming up in a couple of chapters :)

It wouldn’t be fair to start interrogating Merlin in the state that he was in, but the scar was right there, and Arthur couldn’t think of a time where he would have gotten it. In battle, the biggest injuries Merlin had suffered where some nicks and small cuts on his arms, and occasionally a blow to the head, but not a cut as long and deep as one that would leave a scar like that.   

“You’re looking at me like you’ve never seen a wound before,” Merlin joked weakly. They would need to give him some time to rest before moving on. 

“No,” Arthur said, not really able to bring his mind up to speed with the events happening, “I just… where did you get that?” He gestured vaguely to the scar. 

Merlin raised an eyebrow. He would probably have laughed if it wasn’t for the pain, “Seriously, Arthur? You were right there.” 

At first Arthur was confused. If he had been there, he wouldn’t be asking, but it occurred to him that that wasn’t what Merlin was talking about. 

“Not the wound, Merlin, the scar,” he clarified, slightly frustrated. 

Merlin looked slightly taken aback, and then looked down to examine himself, as if looking for what Arthur was referring to, and then looked like he was contemplating what to say. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Merlin finally settled on. It was possible that the loss of blood wasn’t helping him think straight either, because if he thought Arthur would let this go, he was very wrong. 

“Of course it matters. First you don’t tell me that you’ve been abused by the very people I call trusted knights, allowing yourself to get a burn that you will never properly heal from and now I find that you have a scar that looks like it could have killed you, but I have no idea when you got. How does that not matter? You said that you were mine, and I take care of my possessions.” 

“Actually I do that,” Merlin said and rolled his eyes. Arthur would honestly have slapped him if he wasn’t bleeding and in pain.   

“Merlin-” 

“Arthur,” Lancelot interrupted, seemingly done with taking care of Merlin’s wound, “I don’t think you two are up for this conversation right now. Perhaps you should let Merlin rest and then come back to it some other time. Maybe when we are not surrounded by dead bodies?” 

Arthur wanted to protest. He wanted answers now, but Merlin did look like he needed rest and since he apparently wasn’t dying, there was no rush. No, what was important now was to find a place to stay for the night, so that Merlin could rest and the knights could regroup before continuing their journey.   

They decided to not set up camp right in the middle of their slaughter, and so they sent Elyan and Leon out to look for potential spots they could set up camp. They came back not an hour later, having found a small cave not even a ten minute ride from their current location and they moved. They were careful with Merlin who was half-asleep throughout the entire ride, and it took them almost an hour to get to the cave in order to accommodate him.   

Percival and Lancelot took care of the food, and soon the knights were sitting around their fire (provided by Arthur) and talking about none other than Merlin. 

“You should teach him how to use a sword,” Elyan suggested, “Would come in handy since he always joins you on missions.” 

“You think I haven’t tried?” Arthur shook his head, “You should have seen him the first time he held a sword. He could probably have done more damage with a stick. At least with a stick there was no way for him to cut himself by accident.” 

“I don’t think it’s his fighting abilities that are the problem,” Gwaine remarked, “Whenever he sees that the princess is in danger, it’s like all logic escapes him.” 

The knights nodded in agreement. Merlin could be quite smart in combat and had survived far more dangerous situations than what they had faced today, but he always got hurt when Arthur was in a position where he could possibly have gotten killed or suffered a lasting disability. Merlin was loyal and more ready to die for Arthur than the prince was comfortable with. Which reminded him of the scar. 

“Does anyone know how Merlin got his scar?” Arthur decided to ask. It was possible that Lancelot or Gwaine knew something that Arthur didn’t. Or maybe even Leon, as he had known Merlin since he came to Camelot, and was often present during battles where Arthur had lost consciousness.   

“Oh, the one on his shoulder?” Percival asked, and Arthur looked at him with wild eyes. 

“There is one on his shoulder?” 

“What were you talking about?” 

“The one on his abdomen,” Arthur explained, his voice a little louder than it should have been. 

“I thought you were talking about the burn,” Elyan said quietly, and Arthur shook his head again. 

“I know all that I need to know about his wrist.” 

“No, I meant the one on his chest.” 

“Okay, my brain is officially exploding,” Gwaine exclaimed, “How many scars does he have?” 

Arthur’s brain also felt like it was exploding. This did not make any sense. Merlin should not have any scars, at least on his upper body. When peace had first been made between Camelot and Mercia, when Merlin had drunk poison for him all those years back, he had had no scars. Arthur knew that for a fact because he had forced Merlin to put on the hideous servant’s uniform right in his chambers to make sure that Merlin would wear it. And while Arthur had taken note of Merlin’s thin body and distinct lack of muscle, he knew that there hadn’t been a single scar on his body then. Which meant that every single one of them were from his time in Camelot.   

Arthur tried to think, he really did, but nothing came to mind. What on earth had happened to his servant and who had been responsible? A voice inside his head told him that _he_ had been the responsible one. That if Merlin could hide a burned wrist, what was stopping from hiding other scars and marks of abuse or injury? If Merlin was so ready to die for him, what was stopping him from having already taken a blade, an arrow or a spear for Arthur, without his knowledge and never told him about it? 

Arthur put his head in his hands and let out a groan of frustration. He knew Merlin. He knew he did. His personality was so straight forward, but knowing a person and knowing about a person, Arthur was starting to realize that those were two different things.   

“It kind of makes sense though, doesn’t it,” Gwaine mused and Arthur looked up at him, because, no, it did not make sense, but the knight continued, “Merlin always takes care of all the invisible threats.” 

“What do you mean?” Percival asked, being the only who didn’t know Merlin before his knighting.

“When I first came to Camelot, Arthur was almost killed by two bandits in disguise. Merlin figured out very quickly that they were up to no good, but no one really believed him. Even though I ended up saving the princess, I’m sure Merlin must have done things like that before. He’s just that kind of guy,” Gwaine gave Arthur a look, almost like he knew more, but didn’t say. Arthur was about to demand that he continue, until he recalled when he had met Gwaine for the second time. Gwaine had sworn to never speak of it again, so Arthur would have to ask him when the other knights were resting. It was easy to volunteer himself and Gwaine for first watch. 

“Spill,” Arthur demanded, as the two of them were standing watch just outside the cave, “What do you know?” 

“Do you know why Merlin followed you into the perilous lands?” 

“Because he doesn’t know how to leave me alone?” Arthur responded, recalling how many times Merlin had offered to go with him just in case something happened. 

“Because he knew Morgana had given you an enchanted bracelet that was slowly killing you,” Gwaine explained and suddenly the whole quest made sense for Arthur. He had felt incredibly weak during the whole ordeal, and when Merlin had found him, he was no longer wearing Morgana’s bracelet and dizziness had faded immediately. In his surprised state at finding both Merlin and Gwaine there, he hadn't had time to think about it further, and had merely accepted the situation as it was, focusing on finishing the quest. 

“But that suggests that Merlin _knew_ about Morgana before everyone else. Why wouldn’t he tell anyone?” 

“Maybe she threatened him?” Gwaine suggested, clearly not knowing much more than Arthur, “Maybe he knew that no one would believe him.” 

“So instead he just tried to stop her himself,” Arthur concluded, putting the pieces together, “That probably explains a couple of things… and all of the scars. It’s probably Morgana then.” 

“Probably,” Gwaine said, but that was the end of it. Arthur was surprised that Gwaine stopped talking completely, but he too would have been tired after everything that had happened. He was probably worried about Merlin too.   

But as Arthur was sitting in the dark, thinking about everything he had learned, he thought that he was beginning to understand why Merlin had never said a word. How many times had Arthur not told Merlin how much Morgana meant to him? And after she had fallen down the stairs. Arthur had cried for her, and what could Merlin do? Tell Arthur that he shouldn’t be sad, because she was evil and trying to kill them all? Arthur would never have believed it. As much as he trusted Merlin, he had known Morgana for longer. Grown up with her, loved her as a sister. And if Arthur didn’t listen to Merlin, then who would? No, it had been safer for Merlin to keep it a secret and act by himself.      
  And for that he had gotten hurt. Perhaps it was time for Arthur to not just have faith in Merlin, but to let him know that he had his full trust. After all, how could Merlin know that Arthur was a safe person to come to if he had never said it? Merlin always told him that Arthur could confide him when he needed to, but had Arthur ever done the same for him? 

After a couple of hours, Lancelot and Percival took over the watch, and Arthur was surprised at how easy he fell asleep with so many things whirling around in his mind. 

It was surprising, to say the least, that Merlin was the one who woke him up, and that it was Merlin who had made them breakfast. Arthur was about to ask him how he was, but Merlin was faster. 

“I told you I wasn’t dying,” he smiled cheekily, as if having read Arthur’s thoughts. Sometimes he really thought that Merlin could do that.   

“Your gut was bleeding less than twenty-four hours ago,” Arthur pointed out sleepily (he really wasn’t a morning person, even when on missions). 

“That was yesterday,” Merlin said brightly, “But today is a new day.” 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, and lightly poked Merlin in the side. His servant flinched in pain and Arthur rolled his eyes: “Wounds like that don’t disappear overnight. Don’t pretend to be better than you are.” 

Merlin shrugged, and Arthur sighed. He would have to keep an eye on him. If he didn’t, there was all the chances in the would that Merlin would simply ignore the wound and not realize the damage that he had done until it had reopened and he fainted because of blood loss.   

Arthur looked to the mouth of the cave. Elyan and Leon were still standing watch as the three other knights were resting. Merlin likely woke Arthur up to give him a chance to actually _wake up,_ before the others came to. But that also meant that the two of them could have a private conversation. Arthur doubted that the other knights had told Merlin about their conversation last night, therefore Merlin only knew that Arthur knew about the huge scar on his abdomen. That would be what Arthur would ask about for now. Just to see how much Merlin was willing to talk. 

“Where did you get that scar?” Arthur asked again like he had done yesterday. Merlin stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Arthur, clearly not wanting to have this conversation, but damnit, Arthur was the prince and he demanded to know. Merlin no longer had the excuse that he had blood coming out of him. 

“It was a long time ago, don’t worry about it,” Merlin deflected once more, but Arthur was not letting this go. 

“I said where, not _when_.” 

“The Darkling Woods.” 

“And who gave it to you?” 

“I answered your question, Arthur, it’s really not important.” 

“Merlin!” Arthur hissed trying to keep his voice down. He saw Elyan give him a look before he turned back to watching out for bandits and other threats, “Just this month you have let someone beat you, kick you and burn you and told no one. You used yourself as human shield to protect me and didn’t even demand as much as a ‘thank you’. And now you’re saying that a scar that looks like it came from a deadly wound isn’t important? Listen to yourself. You would never let me get away with it.” 

“Of course not,” Merlin said, “You’re the prince, but I’m just a servant so it doesn’t matter. Besides, I’m alive, aren’t I?” 

“You may not be so lucky next time,” Arthur said, hating how it was a given that Merlin would endanger himself to protect Arthur again. Hating how little Merlin thought of his own life or how much he thought of Arthur’s. And what had he even done to deserve such loyalty and devotion, when he clearly didn’t even have his trust?   

They didn’t continue their conversation after that and merely prepared for the last leg of their journey to Mercia. It went peacefully and silently by. 

They spent three days in Mercia. Arthur spent most of his time with Bayard, while his knights took some time to rest. Merlin was treated by the royal physician – at Arthur's request – and the two of them saw little of each other, Merlin being mostly in the company of the knights whenever they got bored. However, on the last evening, Merlin – who had recovered remarkably well - drew Arthur a bath while they discussed their journey home. It felt awfully familiar as Merlin washed his back and tried to convince Arthur to change the route.   

“We should avoid bandit infested areas this time,” Merlin suggested light-heatedly, knowing that Arthur had been thinking the same thing. 

“So you propose that we take the route you originally came up with,” Arthur replied, trying to put Merlin in a good mood. They had hardly talked since the morning in the cave, and it felt wrong to not have Merlin constantly chat about something, or trying to lighten Arthur’s mood in a weird roundabout way. 

“No,” Merlin merely replied, “I think we should make a new one entirely.” 

“And why is that?” Arthur asked, curious about Merlin’s thought process. He had been so against everything Agravaine had suggested that perhaps, now that his uncle wasn’t here, Merlin was more willing to speak. 

“I have been thinking-” 

“Hopefully not too hard.” Arthur received a splash of water and soap in his face for that. 

“I have been thinking about what Agravaine said,” Merlin began, and that made Arthur slightly suspicious, “I don’t have the knowledge about the borders of Camelot that he does, so he probably had a good point when he said to avoid a lot of population.” 

Arthur wanted to accuse Merlin of lying, because surely, this was a lie, but he let him finish. Even if - when - Merlin lied, he always had Arthur’s best interest at heart. This time around, that interest was probably keeping them alive. 

“But I still think that we should avoid areas that are too secluded and easy for ambushes. If we extended our travels by two days, we could travel through open space and still be within a relative distance from any of the villages if we ever need assistance. We could even pass Lord Owen’s fort along the way.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Arthur said and he could almost feel Merlin’s smile behind him. Arthur wasn’t smiling though. He was thinking. Thinking about what Merlin had said. The route that Merlin had originally came up with would be just as safe as the one he had just suggested, the only difference was how long they would be traveling. Logically, they should have stuck to Merlin’s first suggestion and take the risk of word getting around about the travels. No, Merlin’s real objective wasn’t to avoid what had happened on the way to Mercia. It was to take a route unknown to anyone in Camelot. A route unknown to Agravaine.   

Arthur shook the thought out of his head. It didn’t make sense. If that was what Merlin was thinking, then that would mean he suspected Agravaine of selling information to someone outside of Camelot. Instead of Agravaine and Merlin playing tug-of-war with Arthur’s trust, wouldn’t it be better for Merlin to speak up about his suspicions? Arthur knew that Agravaine always spoke his mind, even if he knew Arthur didn’t like what he had to say. He had warned him several times to not take the advice of a servant (regardless of that servant being Merlin or Gwen), but Arthur always told him that it could never hurt to listen. If Agravaine and Merlin really had two different agendas, it wouldn’t make sense for Agravaine to be the only one to speak up. Unless Merlin was the traitor. 

But no, that made even less sense. Merlin had nearly died for Arthur so many times. Perhaps it was just a matter of Merlin not like Agravaine. Or maybe it wasn’t Agravaine who was the problem. Maybe it was someone his uncle regularly talked to and Merlin was afraid that he would let something slip. His uncle was rather talkative, especially after a few drinks. Or, Arthur reminded himself, perhaps he was merely thinking too much into it. Morgana’s betrayal wasn’t behind them just yet - and maybe it never would be - and perhaps Arthur was seeing traitors were none were.   

The only thing Arthur knew for certain was that Merlin wasn’t telling the full truth about so many things that Arthur could only wonder how many secrets he kept. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love scar reveals! Ugh! It's one of my biggest weaknesses in this fandom!


	4. My Loyalty is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way back from Mercia, Arthur learns a great many things from his friends accompanying him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice that I added another planned chapter, going from eight to nine, that is simply because chapter six was getting too long and I wouldn't have been able to put out regular content if I didn't split it :P and thematically it made sense too :)

 Their journey home was quiet and peaceful. They didn’t even see as much as a single sign of trouble at any point, and Arthur had to give Merlin credit where it was due. Although he did so only in his head. He was still slightly angry with Merlin for keeping as many secrets as he did. He understood that Merlin had good intentions, but Arthur couldn’t help but feel like there was more to it. As if Merlin didn’t quite understand that just because he wasn’t a prince or even a nobleman, his life was still worth something. A fact which Arthur thought Merlin knew as he always spoke up around Arthur. But perhaps that too was for the sake of his prince. 

Arthur knew that he couldn’t get more out of Merlin, not with the information he had right now. But perhaps if he cornered him, by having more information, he could get him to talk. It had been like with Sir Dick. Arthur had had all of the information except for the severity of Merlin’s injury before he could make Merlin speak. With these scars, he only had fractions of information, and somewhat educated guesses to go along with them. He decided to ask his knights, and where best to start than with the ones who had informed him of Merlin’s other injuries. 

“Percival,” Arthur called out and rode up beside the tall knight, “Mind if we have a talk?” 

“Of course not, sire,” he responded respectfully, and Lancelot who was riding beside him fell back in step with Merlin who was behind them, but still too far away to listen in on their conversation. 

“The injury you mentioned,” Arthur began, “The one on his shoulder,” Arthur gestured backwards towards Merlin, “Can you tell me more about it?” 

“There isn’t much to tell, really,” Percival said honestly, “I asked him about it when I saw it, but he didn’t tell me anything.” 

“What did it look like?” Arthur pressed on, “Could you tell what might have caused it?” 

“Honestly, sire, it was weird,” Percival said, looking deep in thought as if he was trying to recall the scar exactly as it was, “It’s wasn’t particularly big, but it was red, almost like a burn, but the skin wasn’t scared like it had touched fire. The best description I have is it looked like he had been stung by a bee,” Arthur raised an eyebrow, “A really big bee. One who would have a stinger the size of a dagger.” 

Arthur tried to imagine such a thing. It was honestly slightly terrifying, but no such creature existed. What Arthur could imagine was serkets, but their sting was deadly, so there was no way that could have been what had caused the scar. He thanked Percival for his time, but decided to keep talking for a while. Percival was good company, and it couldn’t hurt to ask him what he thought of Camelot now that he had been here for a couple of months. He was very pleased with how easily he fit in despite not having known anyone but Lancelot when he got knighted and started fighting for the kingdom with his life on the line.   

They chatted about life in Camelot for almost an hour, before Arthur excused himself and sped up to join Elyan, who had been riding with Gwaine, until Arthur showed up. 

“Took you long enough,” Elyan said as soon as Gwaine was out of earshot, and Arthur gave him a questioning look, “You want to know about Merlin’s burn.” 

“How did you know?” 

“Oh let’s see,” Elyan began sarcastically, “You killed a man for burning his wrist and was beside yourself with worry when he got hurt a couple of days ago.” 

“Shut up,” Arthur said playfully and Elyan just laughed. 

“Honestly Arthur, you hide your feelings for Gwen better than this.” 

“Because you would chop off my head if I didn’t?” Arthur smiled. 

“Hey now, that would be treason.” 

They laughed for a bit before returning to the actual topic. 

“It was big Arthur,” Elyan said, almost sadly, “Like someone had used a torch, but...” 

“But?” 

“It was perfectly circular,” he continued gravely, “Which means it was either torture or sorcery.” 

Arthur nodded and Elyan didn’t continue. If what he said was true, which it probably was because he had no reason to lie, that meant that Merlin had kept something big from him. If it was torture then who had tortured him? What had they wanted? Had he broken or held his tongue? Maybe even tried to lie? And how was he still alive? And if it was sorcery, then, again, Arthur could only question how he was still alive. A sorcerer who was powerful enough to create what Arthur could only assume was an actual fireball wouldn’t have had any difficulty killing Merlin, unless they had never intended to do so. In which case, this was still torture. Arthur hated the thought of Merlin getting tortured, and he hated even more the fact that it was probably all because of him. Whether it was because Arthur could have prevented Merlin from going through it, or because Merlin had been tortured for information about Arthur and Camelot didn’t change the fact that this was Arthur’s fault. And that hurt.   

Arthur hadn’t expected to talk to another knight, but while he had been thinking, Leon had switched places with Elyan and was now riding beside him. 

“What is troubling you, sire?” He asked, probably knowing full well what Arthur was struggling with. 

“Merlin,” he simply said, and Leon nodded. 

“I debated whether or not to tell you this, but I think honor binds me to let you know.” 

Arthur looked up confused. It was unlike Leon to keep anything from him, so he was surprised to hear that Leon had something he had to convince himself to tell Arthur.   

“We all know how loyal Merlin is,” Leon began, “And it is exactly because of that that I haven’t told you, but when I listened to everyone talking about how hurt he has been in the past, I didn’t think I could keep this to myself any longer.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“When Merlin first came to Camelot, I noticed that he used to sneak out of the castle a lot. It wasn’t particularly suspicious, and I remember I used to assume that he simply had a girl he liked in the lower town.” 

“That was your first red flag,” Arthur said, trying to smile, “What girl would want Merlin?” 

“Probably more than you realize, sire, he can be quite charming,” Leon remarked, “But, as I said, he used to sneak out a lot, and it didn’t really bother me. Until, one day he came back and I swear I could see blood trailing from his head. The next morning, I went down to Gaius, thinking that Merlin had merely slipped and hit his head, and I felt compelled to know that he was okay.” 

“How nice of you, sir Leon.” 

“Well, I kind of wish I hadn’t done it,” Leon admitted, “Because when I asked Gaius, he assured me that I must have seen something else, because Merlin had been with him all night.” 

Arthur looked at Leon, searching for a hint of him lying or anything like that. He couldn’t find it. 

“I started growing suspicious. Not of his motives, but of his actions. What did he do when he went out? I must point out sire, we’re not talking every week, when I say often, I mean once a month. Although I once saw him three nights in a row and then I didn’t see him at all for four months, so it’s definitely not something regular.” 

“You are stalling Leon.” 

“Right,” Leon composed himself, “I followed him one night. I followed him all the way to the Darkling Woods and I found him spying on a group of people. I was too far away to hear what they were saying and what many of them looked like, but I remembered one of them. 

“Two days later, a group of people came to Camelot, claiming to be noblemen and their servants who needed shelter for a night or two. I recognized one of them from the woods, and I looked to Merlin to see his reaction. He looked… almost frightening, but just for a moment.” 

“I remember those people,” Arthur mused, “I said I didn’t like them.” 

“You did sire, and do you remember what happened?” 

“One of them tried to kill my father in his sleep, but he didn’t succeed because Gaius had been late with my father’s medicine so he wasn’t asleep yet.” 

“Exactly sire,” Leon said and looked at him until Arthur fit the puzzle pieces together himself. 

“So you think Merlin has been doing this… often? Finding enemies and then making sure they were taken care of somehow.” 

“I am almost certain, sire. It is like Gwaine said. It would be just like him to do something like that.” 

Arthur had to agree with that. 

Arthur was silent for the rest of the day, processing all of this new information. There were still holes in the stories, and Arthur could only fill them out by theory and imagination. Some gaps were easier to fill than others. Both Leon and Gwaine had stories of Merlin working behind the scenes to take care of threats Arthur hadn’t noticed in time, and Arthur had a couple of incidents in mind himself where Merlin had come to him with an accusation that at the time had seemed crazy (Catrina being a troll, Cedric being possessed by an evil sorcerer, Valiant using magical snakes to cheat in the tournament), but in the end had been correct. It all made too much sense that Merlin had taken care of similar situations and only went to Arthur in the most desperate of times. After all, Arthur literally never believed him (except for the time with Valiant. Arthur had believed him then, but it had all been resolved so badly). 

The next day Arthur was determined to get some truth out of his servant. It was easier to corner him here, outside of Camelot, because he couldn’t run away and hide like he could in the big castle. Arthur had to take his chance now. But Merlin never did what Arthur wanted him to, so it was surprising when Merlin rode up to him, looking extremely guilty and began the conversation. 

“Lance said the other knights told you about the scars,” he said, not looking at Arthur, “I assume you have questions.” 

“And will you actually answer them this time?” Arthur scoffed, because he had really thought it would be harder than this to get answers. 

“I will,” Merlin said, however Arthur could feel a ‘but’ coming up, “But,” _there it was_ , “You need to understand that I had a reason for not telling you.” 

“I’m sure you did,” Arthur said again, still extremely sarcastic. 

“So, just for now, I will answer one question, but I promise I will answer truthfully and without leaving anything important out.” 

“Just one?” Arthur questioned. He had so many questions that he doubted one answer would give him the satisfaction he needed. 

“For now,” Merlin said, finally looking at Arthur, “Because when you hear the answer, you will understand why I didn’t tell you… probably… I don’t know what you will ask, but I have a good guess.” Merlin smiled weakly, trying to ease some of the tension between them, “So, what’s your question?” 

Arthur pretended for a moment or two to be in thought. Truthfully, he knew exactly what question he wanted answered the most, “How did you get the burn on your chest?” 

“Predictable,” Merlin muttered, and Arthur shoved him a little (enough to make him feel it, not enough for him to fall down from his horse), “It’s a bit of a story though, so please bear with me.” 

Arthur gestured for Merlin to begin his story, and his servant took a deep breath before he began. His story began with the Questing Beast. How Arthur had been bitten and how everything pointed to certain death (Arthur was touched when Merlin began to speak of how painful the idea of losing Arthur had been for him). Merlin told him how he had tried everything to save Arthur, but there simply was no cure. So he had turned to the old religion (Arthur was a bit shocked by how Merlin had quickly decided that magic was the answer, but Arthur honestly couldn’t say he wouldn’t have done the same. Not with how sad Merlin sounded just talking about Arthur dying). Merlin had gone to Nimueh and made a deal with her. His life for Arthur’s (That had hurt. Merlin pumped full of adrenalin was one thing, but a Merlin with a cool head riding out to find a sorceress who would kill him to save Arthur, that hurt more than Arthur could express). 

Merlin then spoke of the cup of life, and how Nimueh had made it rain into the cup, which Merlin had given Arthur (Merlin’s goodbye at the time suddenly made more sense). He told him how Nimueh had tricked him, and had tried to take his mother’s life instead. Outraged, Merlin had returned to the Isle of the Blessed to demand that she take his life as she had promised, but Merlin had found that Gaius had gotten there before him. Gaius had known that Merlin would try to give up his life again, and wouldn’t want to see his ward dead. Nimueh had taken the deal and saved Merlin’s mother in exchange of Gaius’ life. When Merlin demanded that she stick to the original deal, she had struck him with the fireball. 

“That’s when it gets weird,” Merlin continued, “It must have been because the Isle of the Blessed is a magical place - a centerpiece in the old religion - because the sky darkened, rain began pouring mercilessly, and a single bolt of lightning struck down and took Nimueh’s life instead. It must have been because she didn’t honor the deal she had made. In the end, we all lived and she gave her life to save yours. Even if it was unwillingly. 

“But I believe that should answer your question,” he finished and smiled at Arthur again. Arthur could not find it in him to smile back. As wild and ridiculous as Merlin’s story had sounded, every single part of it had made sense. How Arthur had survived despite everyone thinking he would die. Why Merlin had said goodbye. Why Merlin had said that he would serve Arthur until the day he died. Why Merlin had a burn that was perfectly circular. Why Nimueh had stopped attacking. It all made sense. And for the hundredth time that month, Arthur couldn’t help but wonder how on earth he had gained Merlin’s undying loyalty and devotion. What was it about him that made Merlin ride to an island just to give up his own life for Arthur’s? What had Arthur done for Merlin to give his life for Arthur’s without even thinking twice about it? Because that always seemed to be Merlin’s answer. If there was a chance that Arthur could be dying, then Merlin could just die instead.   

And that’s when it all suddenly made sense for Arthur. That’s when he understood why Merlin never wanted to tell him. The moment Arthur found out, he would try to stop him, watch him like a hawk to make sure he was never hurt, and it would be harder for Merlin to protect him by using himself as a shield. Because Merlin would rather die an unknown hero than to risk Arthur’s life. 

“I don’t understand,” he finally said after a while, and Merlin just sighed. 

“You don’t understand why I didn’t tell you?” 

“No,” Arthur clarified, and Merlin looked up, a sadness in his eyes, perhaps because he knew that Arthur really wouldn’t let him do what he wanted anymore, “I don’t understand why you do it.” 

The sadness got replaced by glee, and Merlin chuckled, “To keep you alive of course. Honestly Arthur, that was the most obvious part of it.” 

“Shut up. That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he shoved at Merlin again, “I don’t understand why you would do that for _me._ What did I do to make you think that your life was worth less than mine,” Merlin was about to speak, but Arthur continued, “And don’t say it’s because I’m a prince, because you did not have that issue the first time we met.” 

“I suppose not,” Merlin said, “It’s because it’s _you._ You are special Arthur, whether you believe it or not, and I think that’s something worth dying for.” 

Arthur sighed, “I can’t believe you are the same person who called me an ass the first time we met.” 

“To be fair, you were acting like an ass,” Merlin grinned, “But first impressions aren’t always right.” 

No, Arthur wanted to say, Merlin had been right to call him out back then. Arthur would never have changed if it wasn’t for Merlin. If it wasn’t for Gwen. If it wasn’t for his band of misfit knights. Arthur wouldn’t have been the special person Merlin wanted to die for. He still wasn’t sure he was, but at least, now, he was worthier. 

“You’re still an idiot who doesn’t know when to shut up though,” Arthur shot back and momentarily thought that it was too early to joke about the wrist, but Merlin laughed, and relief seeped through Arthur’s body. No matter the revelations and secrets and scars, Merlin was still the same bubbly annoying manservant he thought of as his best friend. 

As their travels were extended, their arrival would be delayed and Arthur fully expected his father to believe that something had gone wrong. It wouldn’t surprise him either if Gaius was extremely worried for Merlin, and Gwen equally as worried for him and Elyan. Yet, as they arrived at the gates, the guards merely shot them a glance and no one came to meet them in the courtyard, despite their arrivals having been announced. At first, Arthur got worried and thought something was wrong, but the people of Camelot seemed to be going about with their usual business and the few knights who passed by when they arrived merely welcomed them back before returning to their duties. It was all slightly odd. 

Arthur dismissed his knights and ordered them to rest for a day or two, while he took Merlin with him to give a short report to his father as well as the signed contracts that had been negotiated during his time in Mercia. The only reason he didn’t dismiss Merlin as well was to escort him to Gaius himself to make sure that Merlin got his wound looked at. Despite how much Merlin claimed to be alright, injuries like that didn’t just magically disappear (they had had a physician look at the wound during their time in Mercia, but she had suggested a week of resting which Merlin had not gotten).   

Arthur found his father in the council chambers and he smiled as he saw his son. 

“Arthur, how was your journey? I assumed you were treated well by Bayard and his staff?” 

“Yes, we could not have wanted for more,” Arthur confirmed, “And the journey was most fruitful. Here are the contracts,” Arthur handed his father the papers, “I hope the deal we struck satisfies you.” 

“I am sure they will,” his father proclaimed, “You have a talent for things like these.” 

“Thank you, father,” Arthur said respectfully before changing topics, “I can’t help but wonder why you don’t seem surprised by our late arrival.” 

“Gaius informed me of your plans to change the route on your journey back,” the king said nonchalantly, “Very smart of you.” 

“Yes,” Arthur replied slowly, trying his best to hide his confusion, “Well, if you will excuse me, I will retire to my chambers.” 

“Of course. Make sure to rest properly after such a long journey.” 

Arthur bowed slightly and left the room with Merlin.   

“This isn’t the way to your chambers.” 

“Well spotted, Merlin.” 

“You’re going to Gaius.” 

“There is no need to narrate everything I do.” 

“Of course not, sire.” 

Arthur shook his head. What did he do to deserve such an annoying friend? 

Arthur supposed that he was lucky that Gaius wasn’t out, because he did feel like he needed some time away from Merlin. He just found it hard to let go of his servant before he was sure someone else was keeping him from doing anything dangerous. At this point Arthur was convinced that everything could be as peaceful as they could get and Merlin would still somehow find himself in mortal danger. 

“Arthur,” the physician said upon noticing their presence, “To what do I owe the pleasure? I hope you didn’t sustain any injuries on your journey.” 

“I didn’t,” Arthur said, “But Merlin did, and since he probably wouldn’t have told you, I decided to do it myself.” He could hear Merlin protest behind him, but he was ignored by both himself and Gaius. 

“Yes, he does have a habit of not telling me things,” Gaius sighed, but he didn’t look too worried. Perhaps because Merlin didn’t actually look like he was dying as he had been just last week. Gaius gestured for Merlin to sit down, possibly so that he could examine him, but Arthur had to ask something before he could leave. 

“How did you know we would alter the route?” Arthur asked, “I didn’t even know I would do it until the day before we left Mercia.” 

“Ah,” Gaius said, probably having expected this conversation to pop up, “I told Merlin to suggest it if anything happened on your way to Mercia. Just to be safe.” 

“Well thank you,” Arthur said, “It was good advice.” 

Gaius bowed curtly and Arthur left the quarters as Gaius began to examine his ward.   

Another lie, Arthur thought. Merlin was definitely the one to have come up with the route, and if he had already told Gaius that he planned to suggest a new route for Arthur, he must have anticipated the ambush. Merlin’s loyalty was unquestionable (despite all the secrets that they both knew he kept), but in the end it all came back to his uncle. The facts were there, plain as day. Merlin had advised against Agravaine’s route. Merlin had been angry when Arthur had taken Agravaine’s advise. Merlin had lied to Agravaine about telling Arthur to go see him. Their group had been attacked on a part of the route Agravaine had suggested. Merlin had anticipated this and told Gaius that he would alter their route on their way home. The route Merlin had suggested on the way back had been free of trouble. All the facts pointed towards Agravaine, his uncle, being someone who wasn’t worthy of Arthur’s trust, but it all seemed to unlikely to Arthur. His uncle had always been good and kind to him, and there was no questioning that his presence had been valuable to Arthur’s short period of regency. Perhaps there was more to it than met the eye. All Arthur knew was that he could trust Merlin, and Merlin usually had good instincts. 

Arthur had promised himself that he would ask Merlin or his uncle about their odd behavior regarding each other, but since it seemed that Merlin wouldn’t be willing to talk much more in the near future and all of Arthur’s logical mindset told him to be wary of his uncle, he couldn’t really do that. At least, not directly. He had already asked what Agravaine thought of his servant, but looking back on it, perhaps that too had been a lie. It was all very confusing. There was a possibility that they were both liars, but Arthur was inclined to believe that at least one of them was loyal to him and Camelot. And who was he to doubt Merlin? No, Merlin might keep secrets, but he was loyal to a fault. His uncle on the other hand, other than the personal feelings Arthur had towards him, what proof did he have of his loyalty? Arthur began to think back, and thought himself silly to incriminate his uncle like that. Without him, Camelot would have been weaker during Arthur’s regency, and if he truly was working for someone, like Morgana, nothing could have stopped them from attacking and invading the kingdom. They could probably have succeeded as well.   

Arthur forced himself to stop thinking about it. He was tired and over-thinking things again. It would be better for him to rest and return to this dilemma in the morning. 

The next morning, Arthur was woken up by a not-Merlin, which meant that when he asked for ten more minutes of sleep, he got it. However, after getting up, his morning was dull and deprived of stupid jokes and friendly banter. He ate the breakfast the not-Merlin had brought him in relative silence, only asking his servant a single question about Merlin’s state (apparently Gaius wanted him to rest for a full day before he would let him back into Arthur’s service) and when the awkward silence became too much, he told the not-Merlin to do his laundry. 

And that was when his uncle came through the door. 

“Arthur,” he smiled, “I didn’t get to welcome you home yesterday. I hope your journey was problem-free.” 

“Almost entirely,” Arthur responded, not wanting to give his uncle more details than he could. He wanted to see if his uncle knew more than he let on. 

“Well, I heard you returned with the same amount of people you rode out with and you all had all your limbs, so whatever minor hiccup you could have encountered mustn’t have been the biggest of threats.” 

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Arthur said as he nibbled on some bread, “Was that all you came for, uncle?” 

“I wish it was, but I came to inform you that I will be leaving for two weeks time.” 

“What for?” 

“The harvest is coming up, and as a lord it was my duty to oversee and organize the harvest for the land that I govern. Since coming here, I left my cousin in charge, but he is quite young and inexperienced, so I asked the king if I could go and help him. Guide him, if you will, so that he can one day govern independently.” 

Arthur nodded along as his uncle spoke. The story made sense. Arthur was well aware of Agravaine’s cousin and not only was he a few years younger than Arthur (if memory served him correctly he was even younger than Merlin), and he had not been brought up to be a leader or respected lord. He had been the youngest son of five, and while the oldest brother had been studying to become a figure of authority and the one to succeed lord Agravaine (who had no children of his own), the remaining three had learned the way of the sword and become knights. But the oldest son had died of an illness, while another brother had died during the attack of the great dragon. The two remaining brothers were still serving as knights of Camelot and thus the duty had fallen to the fifth son.   

Arthur could honestly say that if Agravaine hadn’t thought of assisting the young lord himself, he would probably have sent him to do so. The harvest was an important part in preparing for the winter, and if the food wasn’t rationed properly, it wouldn’t last all the way to spring. 

“I wish you the best of luck then. Allow me to lend you a few knights to keep you safe on your journey and assist you during the harvest. Lord knows some of them need to get out of the city.” 

“I would be honored, sire.” 

Agravaine left again, and Arthur was as conflicted as ever. It was easy to suspect him of wrongdoing, but when Arthur spent time with him, there was nothing that made Arthur think that he wasn’t loyal. The only way for Arthur to really get to the bottom of this would be to ask Merlin. The servant may have granted him one truth, but he was the prince - the future king of Camelot - he would demand another one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur knows about Nimueh now! How exciting :O


	5. My Knowledge is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations are had, overheard and planned :))

“Sire,” Lancelot called to Arthur as they passed each other in the hallway. It was quite late into the afternoon, and Arthur was already thinking about dinner and rest. He had spent most of the day discussing politics with the council and his father, and his brain was slowly turning to mush. Politics weren’t usually something Arthur hated, but calculating how much grain should be given to each village based on the number of children, elderly, pregnant women and working adults, while factoring in the varying geographical circumstances of all of the villages, well, that wasn’t really one of Arthur’s favorite topics. However, Arthur was particularly fond of discussing infrastructure and was pushing the council to pass a suggestion to start work on a new road which would make travel easier for many from the outlying villages, who wished to come to the city for trading or other purposes. So far, they had more or less ignored him and his wishes for a new road.

 

Regardless, the point was that Arthur was tired, but Lancelot was always good company, “Yes?” Arthur answered, stopping to converse with his knight. There weren’t many people around them, only the passing servants who were getting ready to serve dinner for the inhabitants of the castle.

 

“I heard that you plan to have some knights escort Lord Agravaine on his travels,” the knight began and Arthur nodded.

 

“That is true, although I don’t believe that to be public information yet,” Arthur smiled, teasing Lancelot was always a little fun, only because he usually got the joke about three seconds later, and always looked slightly baffled when he thought he had done something wrong.

 

“Merlin talks,” Lancelot explained, a smile growing on his face as he had realized Arthur was joking.

 

“He does,” Arthur agreed, “It’s a bad habit of his.”

 

They both smiled, but Lancelot continued, “Regardless, sire, I wanted to request that I became a part of this mission.”

 

“Really?” Arthur lifted an eyebrow, “I think you are a bit too talented to go on such an excursion.”

 

“Perhaps, sire, but I want grow in any way I can, so what I came here to ask was if I could lead the mission. If that isn’t too arrogant of me,” Lancelot bowed slightly to show his respect, but Arthur beamed. He had planned on sending out some of the more… inexperienced knights on this little mission, but if it could serve to let Lancelot grow more comfortable in a leader position, then it would be excellent.

 

“That is a great idea, Lancelot,” Arthur said, not even trying to hide his smile, “If you are ready to lead, I think you would be very fit to do so. I’ll have a list send to your quarters of the knights available for your mission, and you shall choose five. I would also like you to write a short essay explaining your choice of knights.”

 

“You shall have it within a day, sire.”

 

Lancelot disappeared down the corridor and Arthur felt more awake than before. Lancelot was his finest swordsman, and a couple of years younger than sir Leon. When Arthur became king, Leon would be first knight, but Arthur was looking to incorporate Leon into a council position at some point. Leon wasn’t only a fine knight, but a skilled tactician and a naturally observant person. With many years of military service, Leon could prove very useful in the council, and when that time came - whether naturally or forcefully - Arthur would love for Lancelot to be first knight. Not only was he incredibly skilled and perfect for the job, but he wasn’t of noble blood, and when Arthur was king, he would remove the laws that prevented others like him to become knights. Having Lancelot as first knight would be a great example of status not mattering, but only what was in your heart. But more than just that, Arthur was happy that Lancelot was taking agency as a knight with much potential.

 

Arthur came back to his chambers with food ready on the table and Merlin tidying his desk. He was still not allowed to do everything that he wanted to, but at least he wasn’t complaining a lot about it. Merlin was in a good mood today, Arthur noted, as the sound of Merlin’s humming reached his ears. Arthur could only wonder why, because his servant was often in a good mood for trivial reasons (last time Arthur had asked, Merlin had simply said that he was happy because the sun was shining). Merlin didn’t acknowledge that Arthur had entered the room, perhaps because he hadn’t noticed as he was standing with his back to Arthur. The prince watched the back of his servant for a moment. One would hardly think that he was recovering from two serious injuries with the way he was behaving.

 

Other than Merlin’s humming, the room was silent - so silent in fact that Arthur could hear when Merlin went through the papers on his desk, orienting himself on what everything was so he could organize it correctly. It was only then that it occurred to Arthur how much he let Merlin be privy to. Merlin was free to read everything Arthur left on his desk, Arthur confided in Merlin when it came to matters of state, and he let Merlin advise him on whatever the topic of the month was. And somehow the realization only put a smile on Arthur’s face.

 

Arthur was also in a good mood today, and when Arthur was in a good mood, he liked to mess with his servant. Arthur silently snuck up behind Merlin, until he was less than an arm length away from him. He then brought his hands together to make a loud clap, and watched with delight as Merlin jumped and threw all the papers up in the air.

 

“Arthur!” He exclaimed, and Arthur burst out laughing at the sight of his servant, “Not funny!”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Arthur said between laughs, and then he slowly composed himself again.

 

“You are horrible,” Merlin shook his head, “Now I have to start over,” Merlin gestured to the mess of papers that now covered Arthur’s floor.

 

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Arthur said and clapped Merlin on the back, “Now come and eat with me.”

 

“What?” Merlin said in disbelief and Arthur almost burst out laughing again.

 

“You heard me. You keep bringing up way too much food so I have to assume you eat everything that I don’t anyway. Might as well keep me company.”

 

Merlin squinted his eyes, trying to see if Arthur was joking (to be fair he had done that before), but then eventually pulled out another plate, cutlery and cup, and sat down with Arthur.

 

“Lancelot came up to me today,” Arthur said, studying Merlin’s reaction.

 

“Did he?” Merlin said casually, “What did he want?”

 

“He wanted to lead the escort of knights that Agravaine is taking with him next week.”

 

“That seems like a great opportunity for him,” Merlin said, and Arthur knew that if he hadn't known what to look for, he would never have known that Merlin was lying to him, or rather, deflecting from the truth (at least this time it was more in jest than anything).

 

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Arthur said and gave Merlin a little shove. Merlin smiled knowingly.

 

“I really don’t know what you mean.”

 

“Only three people knew that Agravaine was taking knights with him on his journey. I didn’t tell Lancelot anything, and I’m sure my uncle didn’t either, so who do you think let him know?”

 

“Probably Gwaine,” Merlin said and gestured into nothing, “He couldn’t keep a secret even if his life depended on it.”

 

Arthur shook his head, and Merlin smiled at him. One day, Merlin wouldn’t lie to him anymore, but Arthur could live with this. This was fine. Truly.

 

“You are close,” Arthur said slowly, “You and Lancelot,” Arthur didn’t know where he was going with this topic, but he was interested in knowing more about what made them such good friends. He was also quite interested in knowing what Merlin and Gwaine had in common that made them good friends, but Arthur didn’t think his brain was ready to wrap itself around that just yet.

 

“He saved my life the moment we met,” Merlin said, “Don’t really get better first impressions than that.”

 

“It definitely beats being called an ass.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“You’re still very close though,” Arthur continued, “You could have told anyone about the mission, but you told Lancelot, why?”

 

“He deserves it,” Merlin shrugged, “Besides, you look at him differently than you do at the others. Like you expect more of him. Thought I’d give him a hand, since you have high expectations.”

 

“Are you saying I’m hard to please?”

 

“Very much so.”

 

Dinner with Merlin was easy. There was no awkward silence, although they always seemed to have something to talk about.

 

"I've been wondering," Merlin said slowly, and Arthur rolled his eyes in jest.

 

"That requires thinking, Merlin, you think you can do that?"

 

Merlin groaned lightly and shook his head, "Honestly, Arthur, you're such an ass."

 

"I think that's well established by now, but what were you wondering? I am curious."

 

Merlin took a breath, perhaps to steady himself and Arthur braced himself for their conversation taking a turn.

 

"When I told you about Nimueh, you didn't question that I sought to magic for help," Merlin seemed resolute in his statement, "I simply wanted to know your thoughts about... everything I told you."

 

Arthur sighed. Were they really doing this now?

 

"I have a lot of thoughts," Arthur said truthfully, "But I suppose we can start with the magic. Honestly, I didn't think much of it," Merlin seemed surprised by this fact, and rightfully so. Arthur had grown up with a father who had beaten it into his skull that magic was evil to its very core, "When you told your story, I think it finally occurred to me just what you are willing to do to keep me safe – which I am not happy about by the way – and if I had had the knowledge you did, that I could exchange my life for someone I cared about, I would probably have done it too."

 

"But," Merlin pushed, "It's magic."

 

And that was another thing. Magic wasn't just illegal in Camelot and punishable by death, but just hearing the word sent his father into a frenzy. For a long time, Arthur had believed his father's words regarding the forbidden art. After all, he had only ever seen magic being used for evil. But slowly, ever so slowly, it occurred to Arthur why that was. Who would dare use magic to grow a plant, when it could get them killed? And who would shy away from it if they intended to kill the king? The idea of his father being wrong had been slowly growing, and evidence had slowly piled up. The light guiding him to safety as he had retrieved the antidote for Merlin. The magic that had cured Gwen's father. The keeper of the unicorns, Anhora. The druids going about their life peacefully.

 

And Arthur thought that in some ways, Morgana was proof as well. Morgana hadn't turned on them because she had magic, Arthur refused to believe that. She had turned on them because of how Camelot treated those with magic. Magic could do frightening things, but Arthur had to believe that it could do good things as well. When Arthur had thought Merlin's story through, it had made sense to him that Merlin wouldn't shy away from using magic. He hadn't grown up in Uther's kingdom, but in Cenred's. He had grown up in a place where magic was legal. So Arthur had not thought much of it when Merlin had told the story and when he had finally thought it through, it just made sense to him, so he had let it go entirely. To Arthur, the core of the story was that Merlin had sacrificed himself for him, and he wanted to avoid that Merlin would have to do it again.

 

"It was magic and I'm alive because of it, so there isn't really much I can say to that," Arthur ended up saying, and Merlin nodded slowly, perhaps processing Arthur's reply, "But maybe we should talk less about how you did it and more about why."

 

Merlin looked startled for a moment, before regaining composure and looking intently at Arthur: “I believe I already explained why. You can't already have forgotten, can you, sire?”

 

Arthur huffed, it was just like Merlin to make light of the situation. “Of course not. Do you really think so lightly of me?”

 

Merlin rolled his eyes dramatically, “I don't think you want me to answer that question, my lord.”

 

“But seriously Merlin,” Arthur said, getting back on topic, “You can't just... use yourself as a shield every time I'm in danger. Didn't it ever occur to you that I don't want you to die?”

 

“I...” Merlin hesitated, seemingly at a loss for words, “It's not that simple.”

 

“And why not?”

 

“Arthur, don't you get it? You have to live. If there's the tiniest chance that my life can keep you alive just a day longer, then I have to take it. You have no idea how precious you are. How important you are to this kingdom and its people.”

 

“Merlin, I understand well enough what my role as the future king-”

 

“No.” Merlin interrupted harshly, “Arthur. You don't understand. The actions you take. The decisions you make. Everything you do shape this kingdom and make it a better place. Look at your knights. Look at Gwen. Look at  _ me _ . You give us something to believe in. Give us hope for a brighter future, because we know that you act out of the good of your heart.”

 

Arthur looked at Merlin in disbelief, “How can you be so sure? I ruled this kingdom for three months and it was overwhelming. It was harder than I could have imagined, and you must have noticed. You were with me every day. How can you have that kind of faith in me?”

 

Merlin forced a laugh, and looked at Arthur hopelessly: “You are an arrogant, royal prat, Arthur Pendragon, but sometimes I wished you were more confident in yourself.”

 

Arthur had nothing to say after that, and they finished dinner in silence.

 

“You didn't touch any of the chicken,” Arthur remarked as Merlin cleaned the table, “You need meat to grow muscle.”

 

“Ah,” Merlin said slowly, “I try to avoid meat. Not a big fan.”

 

“I would ask how a person can't like meat, but for some reason I assume that it's because you feel sorry for the animals?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

Arthur shook his head and it felt like they had never had that heavy conversation. The rest of the night felt normal.

 

And then came morning, and Arthur had to confront all the things Merlin had said the night before. Arthur wasn't sure if he wanted to see Merlin at this particular time. He wanted time to think, and it was hard to think about Merlin, when Merlin was there.

 

And whether by luck or design, Guinevere entered his chambers with breakfast, and while he was always happy to see her, he honestly couldn't say that he always got this delighted when she walked up to him.

 

“Merlin said he was behind on some chores, and I offered to bring you breakfast,” Guinevere explained, less to say why she was here and probably more to let Arthur know that Merlin wasn't slacking off on his duties. She was quite protective of him.

 

“Mind staying?” Arthur offered and pulled out a chair for Guinevere at the table, which she gladly accepted.

 

Perceptive as she was, Arthur hadn't even taken his second bite of breakfast before Guinevere asked what was troubling him.

 

“It's Merlin,” he said honestly, “He keeps getting hurt.”

 

Guinevere but her lip at that, and something occurred to Arthur. He had never asked her about the relationship between the servants, and certain knights and nobles.

 

“Did you know?” Arthur said quietly, “About sir Richard?”

 

Guinevere lowered her head as she answered: “I did, Arthur, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I-”

 

“It's okay,” Arthur assured her, “Merlin told me that he made everyone promise to keep it a secret.”

 

“He's usually okay,” She continued, “There was a boy, once, about three years ago, the man he was waiting on would beat him every night. He almost couldn't walk by the end of the week, so Merlin stepped in. It was the first time, at least that I know of. We were all so scared for him, but there was nothing we could do. And Merlin, he was fine. At first we thought he was just putting up a facade, but we checked him. Barely a bruise to be found. He's not always that lucky, of course, but it's never... He's never...”

 

“I know,” Arthur said, “It's not your fault.”

 

“For what it's worth, I think you were right to kill him.”

 

Arthur looked at her, slightly startled, “That wasn't my intention.”

 

“I know. I know, but anyone who treats someone like Merlin so poorly, I can't help but think the world is a better place without people like that in it.”

 

“Perhaps,” Arthur said slowly. He wasn't fond of killing. And especially killing his own knights, even if what he had done was unforgivable.

 

“Be more confident, Arthur Pendragon,” She sternly, “It would suit you.”

 

Arthur smiled sweetly at her: “Merlin said the same last night.”

 

“Of course he did. He always gives the best advice.”

 

Guinevere left soon after, having other duties to attend to. Arthur regretted not seeing her more, but there was nothing he could do. Not as long as they had his father's watchful gaze on them.

 

Arthur stayed in his chambers most of the day. He had paperwork to do, and it wouldn't do him any good to put it off. Besides, it looked like it would rain, so training could wait until tomorrow. Arthur made it way past lunchtime before he finally heard Merlin clumsily making his way down the hallway – hopefully with some food – but he still wasn't in the mood to see him, so, mature as he was, Arthur hid in his own chambers.

 

From Arthur's excellent hiding spot, he could see as Merlin put down the plate of food at the table, and set the table for Arthur to eat, even if he wasn't there. He half expected Merlin to leave after that, but was weirdly surprised to see Merlin do his job and do a quick sweep of the room. Merlin eventually made it to Arthur's desk where his papers were still scattered, and Merlin looked at them for a while, perhaps contemplating if he should put them away or if Arthur would come back to it.

 

Merlin never got around to make a decision as someone entered the chambers. Merlin turned his attention towards the door, clearly expecting Arthur to walk in as he smiled, but his expression faltered immediately as he laid eyes upon Agravaine. His uncle closed the door behind him and looked around the room before addressing Merlin.

 

“Where is Arthur?” His uncle asked politely, but Merlin just sighed.

 

“I'm afraid I don't know.” (At least that wasn't a lie.)

 

There were a couple of seconds of uncomfortable silence, and Arthur swore he could cut the tension between them with his sword.

 

“I know you think that Arthur is your friend,” Agravaine finally broke the silence, “But he is a prince, a future king, and he cannot be seen taking advice from servants. I would advise you to hold your tongue and stick to cleaning his chambers.”

 

“Of course,” Merlin said, the fake respect back in his voice, “But you should know that I am very bad at doing what I am told.”

 

Agravaine took a couple of steps closer to Merlin, and Arthur found his protective instincts kicking in as he almost leaped out of his hiding spot to interfere with whatever was going on.

 

“Come on Merlin,” Agravaine pushed, almost intimidating Merlin (or at least he tried to, Merlin didn't waver in the slightest), “You can't possibly believe that you can advise Arthur better than someone like me.”

 

“Oh, I think anyone could advice Arthur better than you, my lord,” Merlin added the last part mockingly, “Morgana must really have hit rock bottom to allow someone like you to work for her. She used to be smarter than this.”

 

“Be careful with your accusations, boy,” Agravaine hissed, “You don't know what you're talking about.”

 

“Of course not, my lord,” Merlin bowed slightly, “I shall inform Arthur that you dropped by.”

 

Agravaine turned on his heel and slammed the door shut behind him. Merlin watched the door for a second, before casually turning back to Arthur's papers, which he began sorting through. Arthur could only watch his servant secretly as he went about his business as if nothing had ever happened – no, that wasn't true. Merlin was frustrated. Merlin was usually careful when handling paperwork, but he slammed documents on the table harder than necessary and his movements were more rapid than usual.

 

It had been perhaps ten minutes, when a certain piece of paper caught Merlin's attention. Arthur recognized it from his hiding place. It was a speech he had written only an hour ago about the new road he wanted to build. It was meant to sway the council and his father, since nothing else had seemed to work. Merlin read it through, and then sat down in Arthur chair and began writing all over the speech. Great. Now he had to start over.

 

Arthur was stuck watching – spying on – Merlin for almost an hour before the servant took his sword (presumably to clean and sharpen it) and left his chambers. Arthur silently slipped out of hiding and immediately looked at the speech Merlin had tampered with, only to find himself surprised by Merlin's work. Merlin had carefully corrected a few grammatical errors (errors Arthur had made entirely because he had been hungry), and added suggestions where he thought they were needed. At the bottom of the parchment, Merlin had added the suggestion to ask the citizens about the need for a new road in order for Arthur to prove its potential usefulness. It was a great suggestion that Arthur couldn't believe he had thought of himself, and he made sure to save the draft of his speech so that he may remember.

 

Arthur should have continued the paperwork or maybe even eaten the lunch Merlin had brought up for him, but once again his mind drifted to his servant and his uncle. At least now he knew that Merlin suspected Agravaine of working for Morgana, and logically Arthur knew he should be wary of such suspicions. Merlin had been right in the past and it would be wise to trust him, but the way the conversation had gone down made it seem like Merlin didn't have any evidence. It was almost like he had attempted to bait Agravaine into a confession as he had accused him of working for Morgana. And his uncle hadn't taken the bait, although his reaction was not what Arthur would have expected from him. And of course the effort Agravaine went through to try to stop Merlin's advice from getting to Arthur was quite suspicious in and of itself.

 

Arthur knew that he was putting it off, but it he felt conflicted about the whole situation. He was secretly hoping that Merlin would come up to him someday and give him the evidence he needed, but if there was no evidence to give, then what could Arthur do? Agravaine seemed to have his father's trust and without evidence, Arthur couldn't arrest him or tell his father that he suspected his uncle of treason based on the suspicions of his servant. It hadn't worked out for him in the past, and he doubt it would now. Especially as a family member was involved.

 

Tomorrow he would talk to Merlin, but today his mind needed some time to rest. Too much was going on.

 

Arthur didn't see Merlin that evening, his dinner brought up by some nameless servant and he went to bed trying not to worry about the people who could so easily kill him in his sleep.

 

Unfortunately, Arthur should have worried because he woke up to a stranger hovering above him, his eyes growing wide as Arthur stared back at him. He took hold of his dagger just as Arthur reached for his sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First proper Gwen scene!! woo!! I love her so much, but I feel like she would solve all the problems if Arthur gave her a chance, so for the sake of having a plot, I've been holding onto her :)
> 
> Also, there will be slightly longer wait than usual for the next chapter bc it got out of hand and school has made me busy, I'll try my best to make the wait as short as possible.


	6. My Friendship is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troubles with an assassin, and more... I'm struggling to not spoil the story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter and the next two chapters were originally all supposed to be "Chapter six", but it got so out of hand that instead of having you guys wait a month for me to finish all of it, I decided to split it in three, so I could still upload weekly.
> 
> Edit: apparently I accidentally uploaded an early draft of this chapter and not the final product, so the second "conversation" made no sense. It's fixed now, but sorry for the trouble.

Arthur was the faster one of the two, and swung his sword at the intruder, who only barely dodged. Arthur was quickly out of his bed, and with nothing but his dagger to defend himself, Arthur won the fight easily, disarming his opponent and knocking him out with a blow to the head.

 

Arthur called for his guards who entered his room alarmed, and surprised to find a man unconscious on the prince's floor. Arthur looked around to figure out how the intruder had entered and found that his window facing the courtyard was wide open - even if Arthur explicitly remembered closing it. But at least it explained why the guards outside of his room hadn't come to help him.

 

The intruder was taken to the dungeons, a guard went to the king to inform him of what had happened, while Arthur was told to stay in his chambers and wait for Gaius to examine him even though Arthur insisted that he hadn't been hurt. There wasn’t even any blood, whether from him or the intruder.

 

It took Gaius a while to get to Arthur, the physician's chambers being at the other end of the castle, and Arthur was not surprised to see Merlin right at Gaius' heels.

 

“How are you, sire?” Gaius asked concerned, and Arthur resisted the urge to sigh and just yell that he was fine.

 

“I'm fine. He didn't even scratch me.”

 

“I am pleased, sire,” Gaius said relieved but decided to examine Arthur's head anyway. Arthur let him do it if it would put his mind at ease.

 

Meanwhile, Merlin took a look around the room, undoubtedly coming to the same conclusion as Arthur had about the windows being used to enter the chambers. He heard Merlin mumble something about the security of the room before he went deep into thought. Arthur would ask Merlin what he was thinking about, but Merlin spoke first.

 

“How did he get so close?” Merlin questioned, almost to himself, “In order to even go through the window, he would have had to enter the courtyard which is under heavy guard during the night. But no one saw anything. It doesn't make sense.”

 

“He could have killed the guards?” Gaius wondered, but Arthur shook his head.

 

“There were no reported deaths, and the few guards who have reported back to me at this time, all claimed to have seen nothing.”

 

“Then how, sire?” Gaius continued to question.

 

“Magic, perhaps,” Arthur answered off-handedly, “At least I'm sure my father is going to think that. I was thinking of just asking him myself.”

 

“Just be careful,” Merlin warned, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

 

“I'm going to interrogate a man, locked in a cell and chained to a wall, I hardly think there is anything to worry about.”

 

“You never know,” Merlin muttered, and that seemed to be the end of that, as Gaius declared Arthur good to go, and left with his ward.

 

The next morning found Arthur in the great hall with his father and his uncle, who was supposed to have left the city that morning, but had delayed his travels with a day after the assassin had been caught.

 

“We must execute him immediately,” Agravaine declared sternly, “We cannot allow people to think that anyone can get away with threatening the life of our prince.”

 

“Let's not make hasty decisions,” Arthur interrupted, knowing that his father would readily agree with the proposal, “Let me interrogate him first, and then find out what he knows. Gaius said that based on his equipment he was likely a bounty hunter. If that is the case, then we should find out who he is working for instead of waiting for them to strike again.”

 

“Honestly, Arthur, it seems perfectly obvious who would send someone to kill you,” Agravaine said harshly, the name Morgana hanging in the air.

 

“Even so, we cannot be sure that it is her-”

 

“Enough,” his father cut in, silencing the both of them, making them turn towards the king who had been silent so far, “I will give you three days, Arthur. If you have not gotten any information by then, then I will execute him regardless. And you should be careful as well. It is likely that he got past our defenses with the use of magic.”

 

“Yes, my lord,” Arthur said, not mentioning the fact that if the assassin should have magic, he would likely have used it to escape – or at least attempt to escape – seeing as he could be executed at any moment. Both Arthur and Agravaine moved to leave the room, but his father held him back.

 

“Arthur, stay,” he commanded softly, and Arthur stayed, listening to his uncle's fading footsteps and the door that closed behind him.

 

“What is it father?” Arthur asked, but his father merely gestured for him to take a seat.

 

“There is something we must discuss, Arthur,” his father began, and Arthur braced himself for some bad news, “It is soon time for you to be king.”

 

“Father?” Arthur questioned alarmed, but his father merely patted him on the arm, and smiled, humored.

 

“I am not dying,” his father reassured, “But I can no longer lead the kingdom as I have in the past. Morgana... it hasn't been easy, I know it hasn't been for you either, but your uncle, he told me how you acted after her betrayal, how you lead the kingdom and never wavered. You are ready, my son.”

 

“No,” Arthur whispered, so softly that his father only barely heard it, “Not yet.”

 

“Do not worry, Arthur. You will not be king tomorrow, but even if that should happen you are ready, more so than you realize. I just want for you to be prepared. If I could make it so, I would wish for your crowning not to happen on cause of my death. I would like to see the king you will become.”

 

“But not yet,” Arthur urged, holding his father's hand.

 

“Not yet,” his father agreed, “But soon.”

 

Arthur didn't give their conversation more thought as he walked to the dungeons. He still wasn't quite ready to be king, even if his father thought so, but he could accept that his father couldn't go on for much longer. Even if he preferred that it didn't happen in the near future, he would happily lift his father of the burden to allow him rest.

 

Arthur took a small detour to pick up one of his knights to go with him – he much preferred to have a trusted knight than a simple guard with him as he interrogated the potential assassin. He ran into Elyan first and he followed Arthur dutifully to the dungeons.

 

The prisoner was under heavy guard, and Arthur doubted that he would have been given permission to enter had it not been for the fact that he was the crown prince. Arthur ordered the guards out of earshot and entered the cell to have a better conversation with the prisoner. Elyan closed the door behind Arthur, but stayed in the cell with him, ready to draw his sword should anything happen. Arthur sat down before the man who was chained to the wall – though with enough freedom to both stand and lie down – and looked him in the eyes.

 

“How have you been?” Arthur began, “I assume you have been given food and water?” Arthur didn't ask about his accommodations, because that much he could see. There was a blanket, thin, but warm enough for this time of year. The stone floor was softened with some straw and old potato sacks. It wouldn't have been comfortable, but it was good enough for someone who was currently considered a criminal.

 

“Yes,” the man answered, his voice deep, but oddly soft and comforting, “Your guards have been kinder than I had anticipated.”

 

Arthur nodded curtly, taking in the person in front of him. Arthur had confronted many bounty hunters, murderers, thieves and a dozen other types of criminals, but the man in front of him hardly resembled the ones before him. Other than the somewhat hard lines in his face and his calm demeanor when talking to someone who could become his executioner, Arthur found the man before him different from so many others whom he had had this conversation with. There was no malice in his eyes or his voice, and it made Arthur curious. However, he was here on official business, and he would begin with the most important questions.

 

“For what purpose did you attempt to take my life?” Arthur asked, and looked as the man's face almost turned delightful. As if Arthur had humored him.

 

“I did not attempt to take your life,” he merely answered, and once again Arthur found it hard to detect a lie. Arthur shook the thought from his head. He was usually better at interrogations, especially when the evidence was as clear as in this case. Arthur blamed Merlin for this. Lately, Arthur's mind had been so filled with Merlin and his lies, having slowly learned what to look for to tell if his servant was lying or not. Perhaps that was why the man before seemed truthful. Because Arthur was looking for different tells.

 

“Say you are telling the truth,” Arthur continued, “Why were you in my room, hovering over me as I slept?”

 

“You were a complication,” the man answered, “I was going to knock you out.”

 

“I was asleep.”

 

“A sleep you could be woken from, young prince. I knew I could not defend myself against you, so I wanted to make sure you wouldn't wake for a long time. However, I can assure you that you would not have been harmed.”

 

“If I was not the target, then who was? The king?”

 

“No.”

 

“A lord? A knight perhaps?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then who?”

 

“I do not believe that it would help my situation, should I tell you.”

 

“That is fair,” Arthur said, knowing that trying to force answers at this point would get him nowhere. At the very least he knew that there was a target. He changed topic.

 

“Did you act of your own accord or are you merely doing the job for someone else?”

 

“I would never kill someone, whom I believed to be completely innocent,” the man answered cryptically, which still, somehow, both answered the question and didn't answer it at all. And that was probably the point. Arthur felt that this man was walking a thin line between truth and lie, possibly aware that it was hard to lie to the prince, or simply too proud to utter a lie. But also knowing that telling the truth would incriminate him, and if he did work for someone, it would only make it harder for them to get the job done, should Arthur found out who the target was and who he was working for – if anyone at all.

 

Arthur rose, knowing that if he kept questioning him, he would likely ruin all chances of getting anything out of him eventually.

 

“Thank you for your time,” Arthur said politely, “I will be back tomorrow. I will see to that you are given a larger supper for your cooperation.”

 

As Arthur and Elyan left the dungeons, the knight had an idea.

 

“This might seem crazy,” Elyan began, but Arthur let out a small laugh.

 

“With all the recent events, I doubt I'd think that.”

 

“Well,” Elyan continued, clearly still convinced that Arthur would find his suggestion insane, “I have kind of been thinking about this since you started asking about Merlin's scars. It wasn't anything I thought we should do, especially because we probably don't have the skill, and it almost feels wrong-”

 

“What is it?” Arthur interrupted, knowing that Elyan was just stalling at this point.

 

“As I traveled, I encountered many things. As someone who worked as a blacksmith, I often socialized with people who also sold some kind of craft. In one of the towns I stayed at, there was a physician who was very skilled with making potions, and one of the things they showed me how to make was a truth serum.”

 

Arthur's eyes widened, realizing where Elyan was going with this, but as he didn't want to be the one to suggest it, he let Elyan finish talking before chipping in with his own opinion.

 

“Obviously, I never attempted to make it, but I remember every ingredient and method to making it – it's sort of a talent of mine. It would have felt wrong to use it on Merlin, he's a friend and all, but I've been talking to the other knights, Gwaine especially, and he gets hurt a lot. More than we realize. I think that friends should take care of each other, have each others' backs, but Merlin doesn't allow us that. We don't need to use the potion to make him tell us everything. Just everything we need to know in order to protect him best,” Elyan shook his head, “But it still feels wrong. Perhaps there is a reason he isn't telling us. And it certainly isn't the most noble thing to do. I'm sure that at least Lancelot would be against it. Leon and Percival probably would too.”

 

“And you are telling me because you think I would do it?” Arthur questioned, half-joking, half curious as to what Elyan wanted from this conversation.

 

“You aren't the only who's been thinking of Merlin since our trip to Mercia,” Elyan confessed, “I find myself thinking about him more often than not, and I assumed that if I and the others were feeling like that, it would be even worse for you.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You two are so close,” Elyan laughed lightly, “You spend more time with each other than any other person, and we all know how worried you got when Merlin got hurt. Try as you might Arthur, we all know that you couldn't bear to lose him and the fact that he is keeping secrets from you hurts.”

 

“Since when did you become an expert in reading people?” Arthur jabbed friendly, and punched Elyan lightly in the shoulder, getting a laugh as response.

 

“I am just naturally gifted, sire.”

 

Arthur spent the rest of the day thinking over Elyan's proposal – if it could even be called that. It was tempting, that much was certain, but as Elyan himself had said: it felt wrong. Merlin was their friend. A friend they could trust with their lives, and he did not deserve to have his free will stripped from him like that. No, it simply wasn't right. At least not until hiding the truth became too dangerous. Which, when Arthur thought about, was already the case. How many scars, injuries and horrible moments could Merlin have avoided had he merely been honest with Arthur? How many enemies could Arthur have helped him get rid of? How many mornings would Merlin have avoided Arthur's anger, as he would no longer be in the dark as to why his servant had been up all night? Wasn't hiding the truth already hurting Merlin more than it was saving Arthur? Especially as the prince sat by his desk, unable to focus on the paperwork in front of him, constantly thinking about his servant and how to best protect him from himself.

 

Arthur thought that the only thing stopping him from carrying out the plan was honor, but Arthur saw no reason to resort to drastic measures just yet. He would keep asking Merlin questions, and if he continued to deny Arthur the answers he was looking for, he would decide whether or not using the potion was a good idea. He also wanted to ask the rest of the knights for their opinion. A part of him urged that he should go to Lancelot - Lancelot who was noble and honest, and one of the people closest to Merlin - but knowing that the knight would surely disapprove, Arthur didn't. Besides, Lancelot was preparing for his travels with Agravaine in the morning, he didn’t want to burden him with ‘what if’ scenarios. No, he would keep Lancelot in the dark.

 

The next morning, Arthur went to Elyan, and told him to gather the things they would need to make the potion.

 

“You’re going to use it on Merlin?”

 

“I don’t know yet,” Arthur confessed, “But we have a prisoner in the dungeons who won’t talk, and I figured that if - _if_ \- we were to ever use it on Merlin, we should at least test it first. I won’t give him anything that I don’t know what is.”

 

“Of course, sire,” Elyan answered, “I’ll begin immediately.”

 

“Take Gwaine with you,” Arthur added before Elyan got to leave his chambers.

 

“Why? I don’t trust that he would be able to keep this a secret. I’m not even completely sure he would be on board with this idea.”

 

“As I said, I don’t know if we’re going to use it on Merlin, but even so, don’t tell Gwaine what you are gathering ingredients for. Just take him and then send him to me when you’ve finished.”

 

“Yes, sire.”

 

After Elyan, Arthur went to the courtyard where Agravaine, Lancelot and a handful of other knights were getting ready to ride out. Arthur saw as Merlin was chatting to Lancelot and laughing about something, and Arthur went directly to them.

 

“Shouldn’t you be in my chambers, doing your job?” Arthur said as he came up to them, and Merlin rolled his eyes.

 

“I was just giving Lancelot a couple of first aid tools, you know, in case something happens.”

 

“I don’t see why Gaius couldn’t just do that. Just admit that you’d rather spend time with Lancelot than clean my room.”

 

“I think that is true for literally anyone. Lancelot is much better company than your smelly socks.”

 

Arthur snorted and shook his head, “Get back to work, you idiot.”

 

“Yes, sire,” Merlin bowed slightly, hiding a smile, and began walking away, but not before wishing Lancelot luck on the mission.

 

“Before you leave,” Arthur said as soon as Merlin had disappeared back into the castle, “I want to ask your opinion on something. On Merlin specifically.”

 

“He’s a good man,” Lancelot smiled and secured the small first aid kit to his horse, “I’m glad that he is my friend.”

 

“Yes,” Arthur agreed, “But in the light of recent… revelations, I can’t help but notice that you’ve been quite silent on the matter. In fact I think that the only time you’ve contributed to this whole mess, was when you told Merlin that we had talked about his scars. I’m not saying that is wrong. It’s not part of your duty as a knight to talk about these things. But I wanted your input, since you and Merlin are close.”

 

“You are closer to him than any of us, sire.”

 

“And yet, it is still different,” Arthur pointed out, “I merely wish to know your opinion of him keeping secrets. Everyone has a secret or two, but Merlin has some that could get him hurt. Do you think it is wrong of him to not confide in us. As you said, he’s a good friend.”

 

Lancelot pondered the question for a while before answering: “Merlin never does anything without reason. Although he can sometimes be a little reckless, I trust that if it was truly important, he would tell us. Perhaps he will share his secrets eventually.”

 

“And what if it’s too late then?”

 

“I don’t know, my lord,” Lancelot said, almost defiantly, although Arthur couldn’t understand why, “I can’t see what the future will bring.”

 

Arthur couldn’t say more to that. It had been the right choice not to tell Lancelot about their potential plans of using a truth serum. He would definitely try to talk them out of it. Not that it was sure to happen. But if Arthur deemed it necessary, then Lancelot would be against it and Arthur didn’t want to pull rank in this matter. This wasn’t a matter of state, this was a matter of trust between friends, and Arthur hated himself for how seriously he was considering abusing Merlin’s trust. He could only tell himself that he did it for Merlin. That it was perhaps the only way to protect him. But that was still all still speculation. If Arthur really had his way, Merlin would never drink the truth serum. It was merely an insurance.

 

Arthur watched as Lancelot lead the small group out of the courtyard and began their journey. It would only take them two days to reach Agravaine’s old fort, but they would be there for at least ten days to help with the harvest. That meant that Arthur had at least two weeks to make Merlin talk, because when his uncle came back, Arthur needed to know what to do with him.

 

Arthur picked Leon and Percival up on his way to the dungeons, and repeated what he had done the day before; ushering the guards away, sitting down in front of the prisoner inside his cell, Leon and Percival both standing guard inside the cell, which had been locked behind them, trapping all four of them in the cramped space.

 

“How have you been since we last spoke?” Arthur asked, his voice soft enough to make him sound reasonable and somewhat friendly, but still stern enough to show that he was the one in charge.

 

“I have been treated well, sire,” the prisoner asked respectfully, “I was given a large and tasty supper, as you promised, and I was also given a warmer blanket. You treat your prisoners well.”

 

“And in return for that kindness, will you give me the name of your client?” Arthur tried, gambling on the fact that the prisoner was not working of his own accord.

 

“I cannot.”

 

“You cannot or you will not?” Arthur asked, wanting clarification.

 

“I cannot,” he then clarified, “I do not have the name of my client, only the money I was given and a description of my target.”

 

That struck Arthur as interesting.

 

“You got a description of your target and not a name?”

 

“I do not live in Camelot, sire, and, as I said yesterday, my target was neither you nor the king, and I cannot claim to be familiar with the rest of your population.”

 

Arthur still couldn’t tell whether or not he was lying, but if he was, at least his story had no holes. However, to be fair, there wasn’t much of a story to fill in, so just because it made sense, still didn’t mean that it was the truth.

 

“Can you describe this target for me?” Arthur questioned, hoping the man would speak more than yesterday. So far he had already given more information.

 

“In the event that I should fail my mission, it would be dishonorable of me to speak of my target. My client already paid me half of the money, insuring my silence.”

 

“You speak of honor, yet you would have killed an innocent person just because you got paid for it.”

 

"I would never take the life of an innocent man," the prisoner spoke confidently.

 

“Without knowing the target, how can you know my target is innocent? Are you suggesting that we do not punish criminals in Camelot.”

 

“Of course not, sire, you strike me as a just person. However, you cannot claim to know everything about everyone in your kingdom, can you?”

 

Arthur decided to ignore the prisoner's taunts, maintaining a cool head, “Do you believe your target to be innocent?”

 

“I do not.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I will not say.”

 

And that seemed to be what Arthur could make him say for now. At least he could leave knowing that he had made some sort of progress.

 

“You only have one try left, sire,” Leon said when they were out of the dungeons, and Arthur had to reign himself in to not snap at him.

 

“I know,” he said instead, “But people are always more willing to talk on the last day.”

 

“You’ve done this many times?” Percival asked, and Arthur nodded.

 

“We used to only have the guards questioning them, but it rarely got us what we wanted. I began questioning prisoners myself a couple of years ago, and while it’s not always fruitful, it gets us better results.”

 

“Ever thought about letting some of the knights try?” Percival suggested, “We don’t quite have your authority, but I’m sure just our status is more intimidating than the guards. Not meaning any disrespect of course.”

 

Arthur snorted, “I have tried persuading my father, but ever since the prisoners started talking, he wants the information to stay with me,” Arthur shook his head, “For someone who preaches that the reason only nobles can become knights because of our sacred bond, he sure doesn’t trust them a lot.”

 

Both Percival and Leon stayed quite at that statement, probably not wanting to call the king a hypocrite out loud, but it was clear from their faces that they thought it. Arthur couldn’t blame them. He had basically just done the same thing.

 

Arthur dismissed his two knights after they had both given him a short status report, and he had learned of their plans of the day - which was mostly just training and, in Leon’s case, helping some aspiring knights with various basic techniques. It was nothing Arthur would feel bad for taking them away from if the need arose. Although, Elyan’s voice in his head reminded him that they would likely not approve of their little maybe-plan, so perhaps, they too should be kept in the dark for now.

 

As Arthur returned to his chambers, he found Merlin washing his floor, and decided to not pry him away from that task, and let him finish. However, he would need to get Merlin out before Gwaine reported back him. Arthur merely tiptoed around Merlin - not actually being that much of jerk - avoiding all the newly washed floor. He then sat by his desk to go through whatever paperwork there was to go through, periodically checking up on Merlin.

 

“Do you want something?” Merlin said, not quite finished with the floor.

 

“What makes you think that?” Arthur said and forced himself to keep his eyes on the paper in front of him.

 

“You keep looking at me,” his servant pointed out innocently. Arthur pressed his lips together.

 

“You must be imagining it. Shouldn’t your eyes be peeled to the floor.”

 

“Of course, sire,” Merlin said quickly and went back to scrubbing the floor. Arthur looked back at him. Merlin’s back was turned to him, so he wouldn’t notice, but since Merlin was almost done, Arthur needed to come up with things for him to do. He needed to keep Merlin out of his chambers, but he also needed to keep him relatively close by. Who knew what kind of trouble he could get himself in if he went too far away from Arthur? The prince wasn’t willing to take even the slightest risk.

 

As Merlin finished, probably hoping to get the rest of the day off, Arthur gave him the quickly assembled list of new duties he needed to attend. He gave Merlin three tasks. Repair the hole in his white shirt, buy him a new set of formal wear (that should take Merlin at least three hours, and that was only if he was smart enough to ask Guinevere for help as soon as he began), and then he wanted Merlin to clean Agravaine’s chambers.

 

The task all served their purposes. Stitching together a shirt would likely take Merlin to Guinevere’s place, where he would find the supplies he needed, and probably also gain some help with the second task. The second task would keep Merlin out of the castle, but still close by as well as not alone, assuming he took Guinevere with him. The third task would allow Merlin to go around in Agravaine’s chambers, undisturbed and free of suspicions, and it would likely also keep him from running into dangers outside of the castle as he got something to investigate. And most importantly, Merlin would not be in Arthur’s chambers until it was time for dinner.

 

It wasn’t long before Merlin had left with the torn shirt that Gwaine entered Arthur’s chambers - without knocking or making himself known upon entering, merely strolling inside like he owned the place. Arthur hated that he was getting used to that.

 

“You wanted to see me… sire,” Gwaine said, always reminding himself to address Arthur properly when there weren’t others around who actually cared about that stuff. Of course that still didn’t stop Gwaine from calling him ‘princess’ half of the time anyway.

 

“Sit down,” Arthur said. If it had been any other knight, Arthur would have added on a ‘make yourself comfortable’, but if he said that to Gwaine, the knight would most surely put his feet up on the desk and Arthur really did not want that.

 

Gwaine plumped down in a chair, whipped a stray lock of hair out of his face and send Arthur a smile, “So,” he said, “What’s this about? Finally admitting that I am the most handsome man in Camelot?”

 

“I’m still not sleeping with you,” Arthur merely said, and Gwaine shook his head in fake disappointment.

 

“Worth a try. But what’s it about then?”

 

“It’s about Merlin.”

 

“Of course it is,” Gwaine said smugly, “You are worried about him, and you came to me, because I’m his best friend.”

 

“What? No, I-” Arthur didn’t know why Gwaine calling himself Merlin’s best friend bothered him, so he composed himself and got back to the topic, “Look, Merlin keeps getting hurt, and if what we talked about is true, it’s likely because he’s trying to protect us. However-” Arthur said before Gwaine could say anything, “He is not telling us what he is doing, or informing us when he senses any danger. I have tried to question him, but he has more or less told me that nothing I can say will make him tell me. First I have to ask you, do you know anything about this which I don’t?”

 

“I can’t say I do,” Gwaine answered honestly (although in all fairness, Gwaine was the most useless as lying).

 

“Do you think Merlin would tell you anything if you asked him about it?”

 

“Probably not, but I could give it a try.”

 

Arthur nodded at that, “And if he doesn’t speak, do you think we should keep investigating?”

 

“Princess, I don’t know what you want from me, but I can tell you this. Merlin is my friend and I don’t want to see him hurt just because he refuses to let me in on what’s going on. If you’re planning something, I want in.”

 

“We are _considering,_ ” Arthur put a lot of emphasis on _considering_ to not give Gwaine the wrong idea, “Using a truth serum.”

 

“And with ‘we’, you mean you and Elyan,” Gwaine questioned, clearly understanding what was happening, “and I assume it’s pure coincidence that you are carrying out this plan now that Lancelot is away.”

 

“It _is_ a coincidence.”

 

“Of course, sire,” Gwaine said, and Arthur thought that the knight had picked up on how to say _sire_ from Merlin, “And does this operation involve just the three of us, or is Percival and Leon in on it too? Perhaps Gwen is part of it as well?”

 

“For now it is just the three of us, and I’d prefer that it remains that way. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, sire.”

 

“Did Elyan finish his task?”

 

“Almost. He said that he would report back as soon as he was done.”

 

“Very well,” Arthur nodded, “In the meantime, go find Merlin, if he’s doing what I told him to, he’s at Guinevere’s or with a capable seamstress. See if you can make him talk, I’d rather not resort to… desperate methods.”

 

Gwaine got up, bowed lightly and left Arthur’s chambers to find Merlin.

 

One lunch later, Elyan knocked on his door - because unlike Gwaine he had manners - and came by to inform him that all the materials and ingredients needed had been obtained. Under Arthur’s orders, they would meet later in Elyan’s quarters to begin developing the serum.

 

Arthur felt slightly detached to the whole reality of the truth serum. It had started out as a thought, an idea which probably shouldn’t have been carried out, and these preparations seemed somewhat redundant. Arthur wasn’t _really_ going to use the truth serum on Merlin. That would be ridiculous. The only reason they were going through with this was because they had a prisoner in their dungeon, and perhaps as a failsafe if Merlin should wound up hurt again… But wasn’t that reality a given? Every time Arthur thought about it, the reality where Merlin kept secrets, was also the reality where Merlin got hurt in secret. He stopped thinking about it. They would make the serum, and then figure out where to go from there.

 

As it got dark, Arthur prepared to go to Elyan’s chambers, but was startled as Merlin barged into his chambers, carrying what was probably the prince’s dinner.

 

“Are you leaving?” Merlin asked as he looked at Arthur, and Arthur cursed his servant for knowing him so well. It wasn’t even as if he were dressed for going outside, since Elyan’s chambers were just on the other side of the castle.

 

“I did not go to the training grounds today, so I was going to get a report from sir Leon,” Arthur lied more or less effortlessly. Merlin looked reluctant to accept his lie though, but ended up letting it go.

 

“Will you eat now or later?” Merlin then asked, and began setting Arthur’s table.

 

“I’m guessing you want my answer to be ‘now’?” Arthur joked, as Merlin began to plate the food.

 

“If you want your food to be warm, then yes.”

 

“Fine, but if I end up disturbing sir Leon’s sleep, I’ll blame you.”

 

“Of course, sire.”

 

Arthur complied with Merlin’s wishes and sat down to eat. Since Merlin hadn’t brought up an abundance of food, he assumed that his servant had already eaten and didn’t invite him to join him.

 

“Did you finish your chores?” Arthur asked absentmindedly, as Merlin poured water into his cup.

 

“I still haven’t cleaned Agravaine’s chambers,” Merlin confessed, “I ended up spending most of my day with Gwaine, who wouldn’t let me get anything done.”

 

“I can imagine,” Arthur huffed, “But I expect those chambers cleaned by tomorrow.”

 

“Why?” Merlin questioned, “He won’t be back for another two weeks, and by then his chambers will be covered in dust. Why not let me clean them next week?”

 

“Because I told you to do it now, and I’m your prince.”

 

“Yes, a prince who doesn’t know anything about cleaning.”

 

“Because it’s not my job, it’s yours.”

 

“Which is why you should listen to my expertise, saying that it would be better to wait.”

 

“Merlin,” Arthur said to close the conversation, “Just do as I say.”

 

Merlin looked displeased, but agreed to do it anyway.

 

Arthur finished his dinner in relative silence, and was soon on his way to Elyan’s chambers, feeling paranoid for continuously looking over his shoulder to make sure Merlin wasn’t following him.

 

Arthur did stop by Leon’s quarter’s first to get that report, just so that his lie would be… not a lie.

 

“My lord?” Leon said surprised as he opened his door to find Arthur. Arthur was quick to ask for the report as to not invite any unwanted questions, but of course Leon easily sensed something was up.

 

“You haven’t been attending training lately, my lord,” Leon pointed out, “Is anything the matter?”

 

“Well between council matters, the assassin and regular duties of mine, it has been a busy few days.”

 

“Of course, my lord,” Leon said slowly, and Arthur looked at him intently.

 

“What’s on you mind?”

 

“I just thought it was Merlin who was occupying your mind,” Leon said quickly, and Arthur kind of wished he hadn’t asked.

 

“Well,” Arthur said slowly, “There is that too,” Arthur knew that he couldn’t lie to Leon. He didn’t elaborate, and Leon left it at that too, bidding Arthur a good night, not knowing that Arthur had somewhere else to be.

 

“You’re late,” Elyan said as he let in the prince, who stepped in to see Gwaine already having arrived.

 

“I didn’t want Merlin to get suspicious. Besides, you look like you have already begun,” Arthur noted and gestured to the cluttered table that had a pot brewing in the middle.

 

“Yeah, we’ve already made one, but it’s not right. There might be a few failed attempts.”

 

“I thought you said you knew how to make it.”

 

“Mostly,” Elyan confessed, “But it’s not like I’m an expert.”

 

Elyan returned to work on the potion, while Arthur sat next to Gwaine at the table, as he followed Elyan’s movements closely.

 

“You know,” Elyan said on his fourth attempt at making the serum, “There’s really no point in you being here, if you’re just going to look at me do it.”

 

“Moral support,” Arthur and Gwaine said together, and Elyan just rolled his eyes.

 

“I know you said you were _considering_ giving this to Merlin,” Gwaine said after a while, not being able to shut up for long, “But if you’re undecided, why are we making it?”

 

Elyan cleared his throat.

 

“I’m sorry, why is _Sir Elyan, brother to the future Queen,_ making it?”

 

“Because _if_ we decide to use it, we should at least test it first to make sure we don’t accidentally feed Merlin poison or anything, and right now we have the perfect test subject locked in the cells.”

 

“So we’re gonna make this truth serum, test it on an assassin, and then maybe not use it?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“You’re going to make an interesting king,” Gwaine said as he turned his attention back to Elyan, but Arthur didn’t like the comment. Gwaine was right. He would be an interesting king. One who couldn’t even gain the trust of those most loyal to him. Arthur wondered, not for the first time, what Merlin really thought of him.

 

It was almost morning, when Elyan knocked over the chairs his friends were half-sleeping in, startling them fully awake and told them that the serum was done. Elyan had two vials with a clear potion inside of them.

 

“Meet me in the dungeons at noon,” Arthur said, “And bring the serum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I a sucker for truth serums? Yes. However, I promise this will be very different from [a drop of truth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636450), for those of you who have read that :)
> 
> Also, who doesn't love pansexual!Gwaine?


	7. My Trust is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur uses the truth serum on the prisoner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things:
> 
> 1) I accidentally uploaded an early draft of the previous chapter instead of the final product and didn't realize until a couple of days later. It only affected a couple of typos and one conversation, but I apologize if it made no sense at some point.
> 
> 2) Next chapter should be up next friday or saturday (I apologize about the irregular schedule, I really wanted to do weekly updates, but I came down with a cold and couldn't really write.)

As Arthur walked back from Elyan’s chambers, he heard passing servants talk of an execution, and passed by a window to look out on the courtyard. A pyre was being built, and unless his father had caught a sorcerer in the night, Arthur was certain that the king was going to burn the man in their dungeons. And that seemed quite unfair. Arthur had always hated the pyre. The smell. The screams. Arthur couldn’t imagine what it must feel like, and though his father had long claimed that burning magic-users was the only real way of getting rid of them, Arthur had known for a long time that once he was king, a pyre would never be built again.

 

Currently, there was nothing Arthur could do to save sorcerers from the flames, but his father had no evidence (of that Arthur was almost certain) that the man in their dungeons was a sorcerer. He changed directions, hoping to find his father at breakfast in the dining hall. 

 

“Arthur?” Arthur turned on his heel as he saw Merlin with a tray of what was probably his own breakfast. “You’re dressed! Wait, isn’t that what you wore yesterday?”

 

“And how would you know?” Arthur asked, sleep deprivation probably getting the better of him.

 

“Because I pick out your clothes every morning,” Merlin said as a matter-of-fact, “Why are you walking around this early and in yesterday’s clothes? You would never get up this early of your own free will.”

 

“You sure do think highly of me,” Arthur said sarcastically, hoping that Merlin would respond to his taunts and stop thinking about what Arthur may or may not be up to.

 

“Did you spend the night at Gwen’s?” Merlin speculated sharply and raised an eyebrow.

 

“I did not,” Arthur answered quickly, which probably made it seem like he was lying, “And please don’t suggest those kinds of things in public.”

 

“Don’t worry, sire,” Merlin bowed theatrically, “It’s our secret. Will you still be eating breakfast this morning?”

 

“Of course,” Arthur said, realizing how hungry he was, “I would also appreciate a bath.”

 

“Ask nicely, and I might give it to you.”

 

“That’s an order, Merlin.” Arthur said, and Merlin laughed as he disappeared back down the hall with Arthur’s food.

 

Arthur found his father exactly where he thought he would be.

 

“Arthur!” His father exclaimed happily, and gestured to the chair beside him, “Will you be joining me for breakfast?”

 

“No, I’ve already eaten,” Arthur lied easily, “I merely had a question.”

 

“What about?”

 

“The pyre.”

 

“Yes, well, sorcerers must burn. That’s just how it is. I know you don’t like it much, but sometimes harsh methods have to be used to ensure the peace.”

 

“You don’t even know if he’s a sorcerer,” Arthur said through gritted teeth, trying his hardest to suppress the anger that always seemed to bubble forth when his father spoke of magic. He remembered back when he hadn’t cared, when he had followed his father’s beliefs blindly. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Now, every time the king spoke of magic, Arthur had learned to not listen. Refusing to let his love for his father be blinded by the madness of the king.

 

“I have had the guards report back to me, and it would have been impossible for him to get into the courtyard without the use of magic. Gaius too believes it to be the most likely conclusion, and how else would you explain how he got into your chambers through your locked window?”

 

Arthur bit his lip. Nothing he could say now would sway his father. Arthur almost felt guilty for thinking everything would be better when he became king, but he wanted to learn from his father’s mistakes. He left without saying another word.

 

Arthur came back to his chambers to see the table set up for dinner, the tub half filled with water, and a kettle warming over the fire, suggesting that Merlin was indeed preparing that bath for him. There was also a fresh set of clothes on his bed for when he was all cleaned up, and Arthur sat back in his chair to relax and finally eat. 

 

Merlin came back once in a while with more water, pouring in the boiling water when it was ready and filling up the kettle again, knowing that Arthur loved hot baths even if they were harder to prepare. Merlin didn’t always let Arthur have his hot baths, which in all fairness was fine, so Arthur always appreciated it when Merlin took the time to make it extra hot. He always promised himself to be extra nice to his servant on those days, and it seemed Merlin had begun to catch on because he prepared hot baths for Arthur more and more often. 

 

“Do you want to hear your list of duties today?” Merlin asked, puring in another kettle full of boiling water and then preparing to heat up another batch. Arthur knew he would continue to warm the water until Arthur was in the bath.

 

“I don’t think it matters if I want to or not,” Arthur said casually, never able to escape his princely duties even if he had days where he really wanted to.

 

“Oh really?” Merlin responded sarcastically, “Because the last couple of days you have been very good at ignoring things. Like training with the knights. Or conducting that research on the new road you wanted to make. You have literally been doing whatever you want, which, of course, you get away, because you’re the prince.”

 

There was no anger in Merlin’s voice, so Arthur could only smile fondly as Merlin continued his rant about how Arthur never did what he was supposed to while he worked so hard for him.

 

“And what have you been doing then?” Arthur asked, “Did you finish cleaning my uncle’s chambers?”

 

“I did, as a matter of fact, and I also did this,” Merlin handed Arthur one of the lengthiest scrolls he had ever seen in his life, and quickly skimmed through it, slowly realizing what it was. He couldn’t even hide his proud smile.

 

“You did the research!” He proclaimed, extremely impressed with Merlin’s findings. He looked up at his servant who looked slightly surprised to hear Arthur praise him, but Arthur was too tired to cover up his pride with snarky insults.

 

“Well, when Gwaine came, I kind of figured that I might use the fact that I couldn’t get anything productive done. I did all the interviews with Gwaine as my official witness, because, you know, the word of a knight means everything and all that. His signature should be at the bottom. Anyway, would you like to take the bath before the water gets cold?”

 

The promise of hot water made Arthur move quickly and he was soon submerged in the tub, thoughtlessly scrubbing his arms with a soaped cloth. Merlin decided to clean the table before coming back to Arthur, giving him a little bit of space before tending to him. 

 

“Have you seen the pyre?” Merlin asked, trying to make it seem like he was picking topics at random, though Arthur knew the pyre bothered him. Merlin had always been outspoken about how he hated the fires. 

 

“I tried to talk my father out of it,” Arthur said mindlessly, and he noticed as Merlin stopped washing his back for just a moment before continuing.

 

“Well, he’s a stubborn man,” Merlin said, almost as if he was comforting Arthur or himself. There wasn’t much they could do about the situation as they weren’t exactly dealing with an innocent person. If it had been an innocent person stuck in their dungeons, well, the two of them might have been discussing how to break him out without the king knowing.

 

“Did he talk yet? The prisoner?” Merlin continued, and Arthur bit his lip. Merlin couldn’t see his face anyway.

 

“No, not really. I had hoped his execution date approaching would make him more willing.”

 

“Good luck,” Merlin said genuinely as he put down the cloth he had been using, reaching for the soap to cleanse Arthur’s hair, rolling up his sleeves to make sure they wouldn’t get wet.

 

Arthur took a look at Merlin’s still bandaged wrist, “Does it still hurt?” He said, gesturing the wrist, and Merlin looked at it.

 

“Not really. Although it’s not as flexible as it used to be.”

 

“Can I see?” Arthur asked, but held out his hand to let Merlin know that he didn’t have a choice. Merlin let Arthur do as he wanted.

 

Removing the bandages was easy enough, but Arthur was slightly shocked to see how well the wrist had healed. Unless Arthur had played up the injury in his head (which he was sure he hadn’t), then the burn almost seemed smaller, and Arthur could have sworn that even burns that had caused less damaged would have looked redder and more damaged than what Merlin was currently displaying. It wasn’t that the scar had disappeared, it was merely less than Arthur had assumed.

 

“It looks better,” he merely said, as he reapplied the bandage, and Merlin shrugged.

 

“I don’t scar easily,” he mentioned almost as an afterthought, but seemed to regret it the moment the comment was out of his mouth, “Lean back,” he ordered instead, beginning to wash Arthur’s hair and not letting the prince say another word, unless he wanted to run the risk of getting soap in his mouth.

 

But the comment had been interesting. Merlin didn’t scar easily. A fact he mentioned easily and without thought, yet his body was seemingly covered in scars. There were five Arthur was aware of - two of which still had unknown origins - and Arthur was entirely certain that there were more he didn’t know of. But Arthur thought back to the scar he had seen on their way to Mercia. If Merlin didn’t scar easily, how close to death had he been then? What had happened? With Merlin’s reaction to his own blunder, Arthur doubted he would talk about it right now, so he decided not to push the topic as Merlin washed out the soap and left to get a towel so Arthur could dry off. 

 

“You never told me what my plans for the day were,” Arthur remembered as he dried his hair, casually walking behind the screen and grabbing the clothes Merlin had laid out for him. 

 

“Well,” Merlin began as if he was about to start an endless list of chores Arthur had to do, “Assuming that you will be interrogating the prisoner again, I can cross off the first three items on your list, and go straight to your afternoon training sessions with the knights.”

 

“Is that really necessary?” Arthur questioned. Training was usually great fun, but if he was as behind on his duties, as Merlin was leading him to believe, then shouldn’t he be doing that instead?

 

“Yes, Arthur, it is very important. As First Knight you have to conduct your little test of the aspiring knights, which was supposed to have taken place yesterday. Or did Leon forget to mention that you, when you got his report yesterday?”

 

Arthur vaguely remembered Leon having said something like that, but he had honestly barely listened to it.

 

“He might have mentioned it,” Arthur said truthfully, although Merlin would surely think he was joking. 

 

“Then there is a council meeting of which you should probably read the scroll I gave you if you want to actually make a convincing argument. Then there is a feast for… someone or something, I don’t really remember this, but you should definitely be in the dining hall wearing something nice. Perhaps the new outfit I had made for you?”

 

“Yes, that would be… ideal,” Arthur said, mentally planning out his day as Merlin spoke, “Meet me in the armory an hour after noon,” Arthur ordered as he walked out from behind the screen, “And bring your research with you. You can lecture me, while you prepare my armor.”

 

“Lecture you?” Merlin looked at him with a raised eyebrow (he had definitely learned that from Gaius), “Are you sure you’ve had enough sleep?”

 

“Oh I definitely haven’t,” Arthur scoffed, as he left the room, “Not all of us have the luxury of rest, Merlin.” Arthur didn’t even have to be in the same room as Merlin to know that his servant was rolling his eyes at Arthur’s dramatic declaration. 

 

Although noon was still some ways away, Arthur still went to the dungeons preparing for what would likely be the last time he would speak with the prisoner. As Elyan and Gwaine had yet to arrive, most probably because they were still at the training grounds, he decided to speak with some of the guards to learn more about their prisoner. 

 

The information was nothing groundbreaking. The man was not talkative but always thanked the guards who gave him food and water, he even greeted the guards whenever the watch changed, and informed them whenever he went to sleep. He had made no attempts of escape and had shown no signs of magic, although he had seemingly sighed very loudly as he had seen the preparations for the pyre begin. Arthur could sympathize with that at least.

 

Elyan and Gwaine arrived shortly before noon, and Arthur ordered the guards away for the last time, as he entered the cell. Elyan had with him a single vial, which he handed to Arthur in plain view of the prisoner who followed the interaction with his eyes.

 

“My father has ordered your execution tomorrow morning,” Arthur said and the man nodded slowly, possibly already aware of it.

 

“I can see the pyre from my cell,” he confirmed.

 

Arthur held up the vial, “In my hand, I hold what I believe to be a truth serum. However, I cannot be certain. You claim to not have intended to take my life, but the evidence speaks against you, so I shall offer you a choice. You can drink this and if your story is indeed true, and I cannot find you guilty of any serious crime, you will not be executed. If it turns out you were indeed trying to kill me, I cannot save you, but for your cooperation I will let you choose the method with which you would like to die. I must repeat though, I cannot be certain that this is not poison.”

 

“I see,” the man said, possibly weighing his choices, “If I drink it and it is poison, I would like your word that you will kill me quickly. I do not wish to suffer. Likewise, if my truth is not well-received, I would like to die by your sword.”

 

Arthur nodded: “You have my word.”

 

The prisoner held out his hand. Arthur handed him the vial, and watched as he drank it without hesitation. When nothing happened within a minute’s time, Arthur assumed that the potion had done its job. He decided that he might start his questions from the beginning.

 

“How did you get into my chambers undetected?”

 

“To enter the city, I used magic to hide my presence,” the man said, proving that the potion did indeed work, as no sane man would willingly admit to having magic to the prince of Camelot, “To enter the courtyard, I used a sedative to knock the guards out. I then climbed the side of the castlewall to reach your chambers, and I unlocked you window, using magic.”

 

“And did you attempt to take my life?”

 

“No, I did not.”

 

“No?” Arthur repeated, almost to confirm it for himself, “There were tools for killing found on your person. Who did you attempt to kill? The king?”

 

“No,” the prisoner repeated again, “I was tasked with killing the prince’s servant.”

 

The information took Arthur aback, but he needed everything he could get out of this man. He tried his best to remain calm and not thinking about how on earth Merlin could have created enemies strong and wealthy enough to send bounty hunters after him. 

 

“Why did you enter my chambers if I was not the target?”

 

“I do not know your servant,” the prisoner explained, “But if he is yours, he would come to your chambers by morning. My intentions were to sneak in under the cover of the night and wait for the arrival of your servant.”

 

“Then why were you standing over my bed?”

 

“You were a complication. I was going to put you into a deep slumber.”

 

“Using magic?”

 

“I do not have that kind of power.” He chuckled, “I was going to use a sleeping draught.”

 

“Why do you want my servant dead?” Arthur asked puzzled. No one should want Merlin dead.

 

“It is not I who wants him dead, merely the one who employed me.”

 

“And who might that have been?”

 

“I do not know. I did not see her face, she only provided me with a target, a map of the castle and half of my pay.”

 

“I see,” Arthur nodded slowly, “May I ask you another question?”

 

“I cannot lie to you.”

 

“Yes, but this question is somewhat personal, and since the potion does not force you to speak, you may hold your tongue if you do not wish to answer.”

 

The man nodded, understanding.

 

“You said that you would never kill someone you believed to be completely innocent, yet in your line of work, I find it difficult to believe that you have never once killed someone free of guilt. You seem honorable, yet you kill for money. Surely you must understand that what you do is not right. On what grounds does my servant deserve to die?”

 

“I will share with you my story, my lord,” the man said, addressing him as nobility for the first time, “My wife and I both have magic. She is an expert in the healing arts and possess much more powerful magic than someone like me. The magic I have, we used mostly to help our crops grow strong, or sometimes light a candle. The trifle tricks I used to sneak into your chambers are more or less the extent of my powers.”

 

Arthur nodded slowly as the man spoke, even if he knew nothing of magic. Arthur would have assumed that being able to create fire would make you powerful, but it seemed not to be the case. At least not according to the man before him. It made Arthur curious to just how much he didn’t know of this forbidden art. 

 

“The Great Purge began not long after we had wed, and with my wife pregnant and nowhere to go, we took our few possessions and fled Camelot. Before The Purge, Camelot had been the only place safe for people like us, so we could never settle down, and we could never use our powers in fear of persecution. Yet we had to make a living somehow, we had a child on the way, and I took up bounty hunting, believing it to be the quickest way to earn money without anyone asking unnecessary questions. All I wanted to do was to protect my family

 

“But as you said, I do believe that there is some honor left in me. Even with magic as weak as mine, I can detect lies and truths. I always require my client to tell me how my target has wronged them, and I will take the job based on their answer.”

 

“My servant is a good man,” Arthur insisted, “Good and kind. He would never hurt a soul.”

 

The man smiled a little to himself. It was nothing malicious. It was as if Arthur had innocently asked if the sky was green. “Even in the dark cell, I can see that you believe that to be true, but my client tells a different story. A story which does not paint your servant in so kind of a light.”

 

Arthur could see Gwaine clench his fist in the corner of his eyes, and Arthur took a moment to compose himself, “What did she say?”

 

“I asked how he had wronged her. She told me that they had been friends. They had been friends and he had poisoned her. There were no lies, only a sorrowful truth.”

 

Arthur looked down. The air in the room had shifted. Even with the power of truth on his side, Arthur no longer had control of this situation. He would need time to think all of this over. He needed to stop the conversation about Merlin.

 

“Why did you drink the potion?” Arthur asked instead, “Why not tell us this from the beginning?”

 

“My lord, I am a magic user. The truth would have had me killed regardless of my intentions, yet when I saw the pyre, I was ready to share with you the truth. Even more so, despite my promise to my client of keeping silent, I do believe that I have made a mistake regarding your servant. You have my deepest apologies.”

 

“If that was your intention, why drink the potion, running the risk of being poisoned?”

 

“Because you gave me your word that I would not burn, and I saw that you spoke the truth. For you should know, Arthur Pendragon, that every time I, or any of my kin, step foot in this kingdom, the fire haunts our minds.”

 

“Thank you,” Arthur said slowly.

 

“What for, young prince?”

 

“For telling me your story,” Arthur said, “It gave me a lot to think about.”

 

“You have granted me a merciful death. For that I am grateful.”

 

“No,” Arthur said determined, “Despite everything, I believe you have a good heart, an honorable soul. I do not wish to kill good people and let your family suffer as a consequence.”

 

“My lord?”

 

“Tonight, I shall free you. You will be provided with a horse, provisions and gold enough to make up for you should have earned had your mission been successful.” Arthur took a breath. “I do this on the following conditions: You will no longer kill to provide for your family, you will not use your magic to harm this kingdom, and when I become king, you shall return to Camelot, where I can guarantee your safety. Do you accept these terms?”

 

“Yes, my lord. You have my word,” the man vowed and bowed his head in gratitude.

 

Arthur left the cell with Gwaine and Elyan, knowing full well that as soon as they were out of earshot, they were going to give him hell for this.

 

“Are you sure that was wise?” “How could you do that?!” They both said (or in Gwaine’s case, yelled) at the same time.

 

Arthur looked at them until they decided to just let Elyan speak first: “Even if everything he told you was the truth, he is still a murderer,” Elyan pointed out, “And you’re just going to let him go free? Going directly against your father, assuming that this is all something you will do behind his back?”

 

“He gave me his word that he would uphold his end of the deal. He couldn’t lie about that.”

 

“That shouldn’t matter,” Elyan pushed, “This guy works for Morgana. I can understand not wanting to burn him at the stake, but this seems to be going too far. The truth serum is just that, a truth serum. It doesn’t bind him to do anything, if he should change his mind.”

 

“It’s a gamble I’m willing to take,” Arthur said wanting to explain his choice, “That man wasn’t there of his own free will, he did not choose to become a murderer, that’s on us. We did this to him, to his family and to everyone like him.”  _ Like Morgana,  _ “I am investing in the future.”

 

“You let someone who was going to kill Merlin go, is what you did,” Gwaine said, sounding almost disappointed in Arthur. No, not almost, that was just what Arthur wanted to think. “This whole thing that we’re doing,” Gwaine gestured to the three of them, “Is to keep Merlin safe. Or did you forget, my lord?” Gwaine spat out the last word as he turned around and left, likely going to the tavern, where he could insult Arthur under the guise of being drunk. It was fair, Arthur thought, this decision could backfire. However, he was willing to take the chance. 

 

“I’ll trust your decision, sire,” Elyan said slowly, as if he didn’t trust him at all, “Or at least, I’ll trust that you’ll look after Merlin. But if he gets hurt, I won’t protect you.”

 

“Protect me from what?”

 

“Gwaine,” Elyan said and gestured down the hall, “I don’t even know what Lancelot would do if he found out, but if he gets mad at you, you definitely deserve it.”

 

“That’s fair.”

 

He dismissed Elyan then, and went directly to the armory, unsurprisingly finding Merlin there with his armor laid out, ready for him to wear. Merlin was reading through his research, possibly figuring out how to best present it to Arthur, as he noticed the prince’s arrival.

 

“You’re early,” he remarked and folded the lengthy parchment up.

 

“So are you,” Arthur responded teasingly, “I was unaware that you were capable of that.”

 

Merlin let out a giggle as he put down the parchment and reached across the table to reveal a plate of food: “I figured you would be hungry,” he said and gave Arthur the plate. The lunch wasn’t impressive, but it was a perfect pre-training meal, so Arthur could only smile.

 

“Okay, I know you’ve been waiting all day to do this. Lecture away.”

 

And so Merlin did. While Arthur ate, Merlin told him about the various people who had expressed a desire for a new road, and how it could benefit different professions. Merlin had gotten statements from nobles and commoners alike, apparently using Arthur’s name and the presence of Gwaine to make some reluctant noblemen speak. A clever move on Merlin’s part, which Arthur would grant him no praise for whatsoever. 

 

When Arthur was ready to go to the training grounds, Merlin had finished his (quite impressive) lecture, during which Arthur had remarked that Merlin had been rather enthusiastic about the whole thing. It had never been uncommon for Merlin to take interest in politics, Arthur’s life or anything else concerning Arthur, but Arthur hadn’t seen much of ot lately, at least not to the extent where Merlin was smiling giddily to himself as he proudly gave Arthur advice. 

 

Arthur had always wondered why Merlin took such interest in politics. Even before Arthur had begun listening to his advice, Merlin had slowly educated himself about Camelot and how the kingdom worked. In the beginning, Arthur had thought Merlin did it to get an insight in Arthur’s life, as Arthur didn’t really open up to him that much, but over the years, it merely seemed like Merlin did it for himself. Arthur knew that between working for him and assisting Gaius, Merlin was an avid reader, and quite often ended up getting behind on his chores because he was reading up about the history of Camelot. Arthur usually forgave this, because it gave them something to talk about. And if it allowed Merlin to help him write a few speeches, well, it worked out great for both of them. 

 

Of course, taking an interest didn’t mean being an expert. Arthur had been preparing to become king his entire life, and was not above correcting Merlin when he got something wrong, or use an entire morning lecturing his servant about the purpose of military power. But every so often, Merlin could offer insight Arthur wouldn’t normally have access to, and it made Arthur happy to have Merlin as his servant, as his friend. Because Merlin would always speak up, always question things and offer his own opinion whether Arthur asked or not, and Arthur was happy to see Merlin doing it again, having not realized when and why he had stopped. A voice in Arthur’s mind whispered that it was because Arthur was investigating Merlin, and his servant was well aware of that, but he ignored it. Right now, their friendship was back on track and it was wonderful.

 

It spoke of how long it had been since Arthur had been to the training grounds, when Leon was surprised to see him. They began training as usual, Arthur inviting Percival to be his sparring partner, before he would begin the tests, wanting the aspiring knights to have some idea of what they would be up against. 

 

Before beginning the tests, Arthur let Leon run him through the nobles he would be facing and was less than impressed to hear how they’d done in sparring sessions against other knights, and even amongst themselves. Arthur didn’t expect a single one of them to last more than ten seconds against him. Fifteen if he went easy on them. 

 

There were ten aspiring knights, and the first five of them went down as quickly as Arthur had predicted. At the sidelines, Merlin was sat, supposedly sharpening his sword, but he spent more time laughing and smiling whenever Arthur knocked down another person. More than once, Arthur thought that Merlin was handier with a sword than half of these boys, and that was a scary thought considering how awful Merlin was with any kind of weapon. 

 

It was all over less than an hour after it had begun, and Arthur did not hide his disappointment as he left the training grounds, letting Leon know that he should continue training them until they were ready to face him again.

 

Merlin quickly got Arthur out of his armor, and the prince set off to the council meeting.

 

It was a long affair, but Arthur kept his attention and ended the meeting by doing his own presentation, which slowly started winning people over. Arthur knew his father wouldn’t back him up, not because he necessarily disagreed, but because he was (not so) subtly testing Arthur’s ability to persuade people by his own merits. But regardless of his father’s support, Arthur thought that by the next council meeting, he should half of the council on his side, which would give him enough support to get his vision through. And he had Merlin to thank for that.

 

By the end of the meeting, his father pulled him aside.

 

“You did great,” he said proudly, “Your uncle truly wasn’t wrong when he said how much you have grown.”

 

Arthur smiled a little at the praise, “Thank you, father, but I still have much to learn.”

 

“Of course,” his father agreed, although still smiling as he changed the subject, “How did the interrogation go?”

 

“It was unfruitful,” Arthur lied, “I suspect that he didn’t act of his own accord, but I have no proof.”

 

“A shame,” his father said, “He shall be executed tomorrow, and we shall worry about him no more.”

 

“Of course father,” Arthur dismissed himself, “I’ll see you later at the feast.”

 

Merlin met him again in his chambers, where he was ready with Arthur’s new clothes. It was plain as day that Guinevere had helped Merlin out with this particular task, as Merlin knew nothing about fashion. The dress shirt Merlin presented him with was particularly beautiful. It was almost all white, but golden seams lined the hem of the sleeves, and on the left chest, a golden dragon was embroidered into it.

 

“Do you like it?” Merlin asked cheekily, knowing that he had done a good job.

 

“I do,” Arthur admitted, “How much did you and Guinevere pay for this?”

 

“We didn’t pay anything for it, sire,” Merlin smiled, and Arthur had to resist the urge to ruffle his hair.

 

“Okay, how much did I pay for it?”

 

“Ouch,” Merlin said and fake winched, “I don’t think you want to know.”

 

Arthur shook his head: “So just because I’m the prince, you think I can spend whatever I like on pretty clothes?”

 

“Of course not. But the king of Camelot should have nice things, and unless you get into a violent fight tonight, this shirt will last at least a couple of years. Assuming you don’t grow too fat.”

 

“I’ll have you know that this is pure muscle!”

 

“Of course it is, sire. Now off you go. You don’t want to keep your father waiting.”

 

“Aren’t you coming?” Arthur questioned as Merlin send him out and moved to leave in the opposite direction.

 

“I promised Gaius I’d help him with disposing of expired potions. I had Gwen stand in for me if it makes you happy?”

 

“I’ll allow it,” Arthur agreed content, “Have fun.”

 

The feast was almost like the calm before the storm. Despite wanting to relax, Arthur held back considerably on the wine in order to successfully execute the escape plan in the night. He knew he would have to do it alone, both Gwaine and Elyan not supporting the idea (of which he didn’t blame them), and Arthur couldn’t run the risk of telling anyone else. At the very least, he knew both knights were loyal enough to not say anything to anyone, even if they thought he was in the wrong. At multiple times during the evening, it looked like Guinevere wanted to ask him what was on his mind, but with Arthur sitting right next to his father, she could do nothing more than send him worried looks, which he merely responded to with a quick smile, trying to reassure her that everything was okay. He didn’t want to involve her in this matter. It wouldn’t be fair to burden her with the knowledge when she could do nothing with it. And it wouldn’t surprise Arthur either if she would choose to agree with Elyan over him. 

 

Arthur excused himself early, saying that he had already had too much to drink and didn’t want to waste tomorrow with a headache. However, instead of going to his chambers, Arthur went to the stables, where he found a suitable horse, which he saddled up, and attached the small bag of coins as well as food he had taken from the feast - food he hoped would last the soon escaped prisoner all the way back to his family. 

 

Getting the prisoner out of the cells was actually the easiest part of it all. There was a, somewhat, secret exit of which Arthur had the only key, so all Arthur had to do was enter the dungeons as he normally would, inform the guards that he wished to speak to the prisoner one last time, and have them leave the general vicinity.

 

Once alone by the cell, Arthur let the man go, and gave him the key to the exit, which would lead the man to the gate which lead into the lower town. There Arthur would meet him again and help him get completely out of the city.

 

Arthur faked having a conversation with the prisoner for about five minutes before leaving the dungeons the same way he came, hoping that in the dark of the night, the guards wouldn’t immediately realize that the prisoner was no longer there. When Arthur met up with the man and the warning bell still hadn’t rung, Arthur counted himself extremely lucky (only because he would otherwise have to deem their security lackluster at best).

 

Now they just had to sneak the man all the way out of Camelot… with a horse. That was the hard part.

 

“I made you a promise, my lord,” the man began, as Arthur had filled him in on the problem at hand, “That I would not use my magic to harm this kingdom, but I could use it to escape with. I promise no one will be harmed.”

 

Arthur studied the man for a bit, the sincerity still dripping off of him despite the truth serum’s effect being long gone. He nodded his approval: “Do what you can.”

 

The man took the horse by the reigns and put his hand on its muzzle, as he spoke a few words which Arthur could not understand, but recognized as words of the old religion. Words used for magic. The man’s eyes glowed gold for a second as the spell set in, and he repeated it once again, holding his hand to his own chest. Arthur failed to see what the spell had done.

 

“What did you do?” He asked curiously. Normally, when faced with sorcerers, they tried to kill him, and Arthur didn’t have much time to process and understand how their magic worked. He mostly just focused on not dying. Who could really blame him for that? But in a situation like this, Arthur let his curiosity take hold.

 

“A spell of discretion,” the man explained, “As long as I do not draw attention to myself, I can pass by unnoticed. It was the same way I got into the city. Although I can only hope that my ride stays silent as we pass by,” the man ran his fingers through the horse’s mane, soothing it, possibly praying that nothing would go wrong.

 

“Good luck,” Arthur said, not wanting to waste any time, “This is as far as I can come with you.”

 

“Thank you, young prince,” the sorcerer said, “It has been a pleasure getting to know you. I look forward to the day you will be king, and I shall return to your kingdom, gladly.”

 

The sorcerer took off, while Arthur turned back towards the castle. He had only just reached his chambers when the warning bell rang, and he could only smile victoriously, knowing that their prisoner would be long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read, I want you opinion:
> 
> Over the course of writing this fic, I have been noting down everything that Merlin does which Arthur doesn't know about, and while the whole fic is from Arthur's perspective, I have Merlin's side of the story completely planned out as well. If this would interest anyone, I'd be quite interested in writing a sort of companion fic which would show what Merlin did outside of Arthur's story line. Of course, that wouldn't be all, the story I'm planning out would begin months before the first chapter of this story takes place, and also end much after this story is concluded. 
> 
> I would like to know if you guys would be interested, merely because you are, there are small tidbits of information that I won't bother revealing in this fic as they don't really add much to the story, but are just fun little easter eggs.


	8. My Love is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur has two weeks until Agravaine's return. That's the time limit he sets for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy, only two days late with this. Next update should be out next monday (or maybe even next sunday), if I am really good.

Arthur, despite now having the means to get the truth from Merlin, did not use the truth serum. When he had used it on their prisoner, he had given him a choice, let him decide whether or not he wanted to take it. Merlin wouldn’t have that choice, because Arthur knew that he either wouldn’t take the potion or just decide to not speak at all. For Merlin, this would only work should Arthur choose to give it to his servant without his knowledge. Merlin was not to know that he was bound to speak the truth. Because Merlin did not just lie, did not just hide, Merlin was skilled in warping the truth, sprinkling in the faintest of lies to create the story which best suited him. Arthur would use the serum to weed out those lies. However, when it came down to it, he would prefer to not use the potion at all. 

It was no coincidence that so few people knew of this potential plan. It was no coincidence that Arthur had never once considering seeking Guinevere’s advice. Because he knew this wasn’t the right way to go about it. Therefore, Arthur gave himself a time limit. Until his uncle was to return from his trip, Arthur would not use the potion. He would try to get the truth - or at least some of it - before then. The most pressing matter was why Merlin thought his uncle was working for Morgana, so that was what Arthur set as his goal. Even if Merlin had not told him everything by the time his uncle returned, if, at the very least, he had shared his suspicions with Arthur, he would not use the potion. He would trust that in due time, Merlin would come to him.

The morning after the prisoner had been set free (or escaped as everyone no doubt believed), Merlin woke him up bright and early, the usual smile absent from his face.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur mumbled, groggy from sleep and wanting to stay in bed. He turned away from the window, blocking out the sun, and was silently grateful that Merlin had yet to steal his covers in an attempt to get him out of bed.

“The prisoner escaped,” Merlin said, sounding unusually frustrated, “Stole a horse too, and since he turned out to be a sorcerer, he must have covered his tracks, because no one could find any sign of him. It was like he just vanished into thin air, and- why on earth are you smiling?”

Merlin gestured wildly to Arthur who had found the energy to at least sit up in his bed, resting against the bed frame. Arthur should probably stop smiling before Merlin figured it out by himself. 

“Let’s do something fun,” he suggested, distracting Merlin, while he got a little more comfortable rearranging his pillows, “I’ll tell you a secret, and you tell me one.”

“What?” Merlin gaped in disbelief, “Arthur, I get that you are very invested in my life right now, but maybe this isn’t the right time? There is an assassin, who wants you dead, somewhere out there. Please focus on that first.”

“Oh, come on, Merlin,” Arthur groaned and rolled his head, “It will be fun.”

Merlin shook his head, “You have a weird sense of _fun._ ” Despite the reluctant tone, Merlin still sat down by the edge of Arthur’s bed, going along with his prince’s weird shenanigans. 

“I’ll start,” Arthur said, as if that wasn’t obvious given Merlin’s reluctance to both play the game and even share anything about himself lately, “I let the prisoner go.”

Merlin blinked. And then he blinked again. There was good chance that Merlin was making sure he wasn’t dreaming: “You what?” He yelled, before realizing he should keep his voice down and then just let out a frustrated groan, letting Arthur know how much of a clotpole he thought he was.

“I let him go,” Arthur repeated, just to hammer the fact into his servant, “Gave him a horse, provisions and money too. Made sure no one found out until it was too late.”

“Are you mad?” Merlin hissed, trying not to yell, “He tried to kill you.”

“He didn’t _actually_ try to kill me,” Arthur noted, quietly, almost hoping Merlin wouldn’t question that bit, but Merlin raised an eyebrow, so Arthur had to keep going, “Apparently, I was just a complication to get to the real target.” There was no need to tell Merlin about who the real target had been.

“So he was going to kill you?” Merlin remarked sarcastically.

“No, he was just going to knock me out.”

“How could you believe that? He refused to tell you anything for days, and the day before his execution he suddenly opens up with a story that makes you think that he was, in fact, not so bad after all? How could you just let him go? How could you trust him? How-”

“I trust someone who lies to me all the time,” Arthur cut in, and looked intently at Merlin to see his reaction. He looked guilty, as he should. Perhaps, guilting him into talking would work.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said quietly. And though Arthur should probably say some comforting words about how, for now, that was okay, he didn’t. He was going to take this opportunity to make Merlin talk.

“You owe me a secret now,” Arthur said, “Anything you want to share?”

“My favorite food is blueberries,” Merlin said with a weak smile, and Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically.

“You know that’s not going to cut it. Give me a real one.”

Merlin fiddled for a bit, but eventually came out with a blank, “I don’t know what to say. Why don’t you ask me a question. I promise to tell you the truth.”

It was a good offer, except, this time, Merlin didn’t know what Arthur would ask. When Arthur had asked about the burn on his chest, Merlin had likely rehearsed what to say, known what they would discuss and been prepared for the emotions that would resurface. This time, Merlin looked less confident, less comfortable. He didn’t know what Arthur would ask.

And Arthur knew he should ask about his uncle, he really did. But ultimately, what he needed from Merlin, was continued honesty. He wanted them to get to a point where Merlin could always share whatever was bothering him with Arthur, so Arthur wouldn’t ask about his uncle. That, he wanted Merlin to tell him himself. So he asked what was possibly the worst question Merlin could have anticipated.

“I was told,” Arthur began slowly, knowing that it wasn’t quite fair to Merlin to bring this topic up, but with the power of one truth on his side, he wanted something he knew Merlin would never share of his own free will, no matter the circumstances, “that you tried to poison Morgana. Is it true?”

Merlin froze at the question, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him tightly. He looked away, trying to find the words to say.

“Can you ask another question, please?” He pleaded quietly, his voice sounded like he was close to breaking. It really hadn’t been fair. But Arthur wasn’t going to let it go.

“Merlin,” he said, trying his best to speak with a calm voice, “Please tell me. I know you are a good person. You can trust me.”

Merlin smiled. A bitter, bitter smile: “You won’t think I’m so good, when you know.”

“I think that’s for me to decide.”

Merlin looked at him again, a small light of hope present in his blue eyes, as he began his story.

When Merlin had talked about Nimueh and the cup of life, he had been more detached, only saddened by the idea of Arthur dying. As he told the story of Morgana, a story Arthur had never known before, he was emotional, close to tears, and full of hurt and regret.

“It wasn’t long after I had come to Camelot that Gaius shared with me Morgana’s abilities as a seer. That the things she dreamt, often came to pass. However, in fear of what Uther would do, we tried to hide it, tried to assure her that her dreams were nothing more than that. Just dreams. It worked, but only for a while.

“Eventually, her powers grew, her magic got stronger. And I knew that it would be dangerous for her to stay at the heart of Camelot, unable to control her powers. And Morgana was a good person, we all knew she was. I wanted to help her.”

Merlin took a deep breath, and Arthur prepared himself for the first big revelation.

“I wanted to help her, so I suggested that she go to the druids. They could help her, teach her, and let her feel like she wasn’t so alone with a power she never wanted. I thought it was a good idea, but...” Merlin bit his lip, his gaze fixed on the floor beneath him. Arthur knew what happened next and bid Merlin to just move on.

“I had promised her that I would never tell anyone about her magic. It was the least I could do for her, so when the sleeping curse fell on Camelot and she was the only one unaffected...”

“It must have been because of her magic,” Arthur slowly realized, their interactions at the time suddenly making more sense.

“That’s what I thought too, except, it wasn’t the case. When,” Merlin took another steadying breath, “When you sent me to find the potion she had taken, I tried to find a way to stop the curse instead, and I learned the true reason she wasn’t affected. For a spell that powerful to work, it needs a source, and, to break it, you destroy the source.”

“And Morgana was the source,” Arthur guessed, and Merlin nodded slowly, seemingly gathering courage to keep going, but Arthur stopped him: “You don’t have to continue.”

Merlin let out a breath, “I told you,” he said slowly, looking up at Arthur, “I’m not as good as you think.”

“And I told you that that’s for me to decide,” Arthur reminded him, “You did the right thing. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Merlin didn’t say anything, merely looked down as if in thought. Arthur needed for Merlin to stop that. He had a feeling that Merlin had spent far too long inside his own head, blaming himself for something he shouldn’t.

“Do you think you would ever have told me?” Arthur asked to distract Merlin, “If I hadn’t made you.”

“Probably not,” Merlin said and let out a nervous laugh, “It’s not exactly something I’m proud of.”

“Then what are you proud of?” Arthur tried cheekily, a small smile appearing on Merlin’s face as he looked back at Arthur.

“Don’t try to make me tell you more. That should be plenty for now.”

“Perhaps,” Arthur said, “But you can’t hide your secrets forever. One way or another, I will find out, and wouldn’t you prefer for it to happen on your terms?”

“Yes,” Merlin said slowly, “But not yet. For now, just for now, I’d like to keep my secrets. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Arthur.”

“Noticed what?” Arthur asked, playing dumb, not knowing exactly what Merlin was referring to, as Arthur had been doing a lot of things without his servant lately. Perhaps there was some irony in that, but Arthur chose not to think about it.

“You are keeping an eye on me,” Merlin said. It was as if he was silently asking - ordering - Arthur to stop, “Are you afraid that I will run off?”

“No,” Arthur said honestly. He knew Merlin would never leave, “I’m worried that you will get hurt.”

“Even if I get hurt,” Merlin said wisely, “I will always return.” Merlin smiled a little to himself, before continuing, “I’m proud to be your servant... if that counts.” Merlin looked at him with a teasing glint in his eyes, and Arthur dropped the whole topic.

“It counts.”

Merlin left soon after that, taking the half-filled laundry basket with him as an excuse to leave the room, clearly not wanting Arthur to ask any further questions. 

It was weird, Arthur thought for not the first time since Merlin’s carefully constructed tower of lies had begun to unravel. It was weird that he wasn’t more upset with Merlin over the fact that he was keeping secrets. Secrets so big, they changed how Arthur viewed people and situations, not just how he viewed Merlin. In fact, it only served to confirm things he already knew about him. That he was kind and loyal, and strong than anyone ever gave him credit for. So Arthur wasn’t upset. How could he be? Merlin had explained why he thought it was necessary for him to keep these secrets, and Arthur understood that it was all partially his fault. His fault for not letting Merlin know that he was a safe person to come to. Yet Merlin trusted him enough to tell him that, yes, there were secrets, and perhaps some day he would share them, but for some reason, now was not the time. And if it wasn’t for all the injuries, if it wasn’t for Merlin’s accusations against his uncle, perhaps Arthur could have been patient. But that was not the case.

Arthur also continued to wonder what to do about his servant as long as there were secrets between them. Merlin was clearly not happy with how Arthur was keeping watching over him, constantly having him within an arm’s reach. And Arthur knew that this little game couldn’t last long. Somehow, in some way, Merlin’s stupid, self-sacrificial and vigilant tendencies would take over and he’d get hurt without Arthur being any the wiser. And he wouldn’t tell, not until Arthur knew the full truth, so he had to know.

Merlin was ready to lay his life on the line for Arthur, told him time and time again that he would readily die for him, should the need arise. Arthur knew that if there was one thing he could trust, it was Merlin, and he knew that Merlin would trust Arthur with his life. Yet, Arthur could trust Merlin, not only with his life, but with his secrets, dreams and ambitions, while Merlin would never trust Arthur with even one of those. And for Arthur, this fact didn’t upset him, never could. No, Arthur was an ambitious man, he would earn Merlin’s full trust. And he had roughly two weeks to do so. With years of friendship to build on, it shouldn’t be hard. 

“Do you trust me?” Arthur asked Merlin that night as he served him dinner. The question was asked casually, letting Merlin know that this wasn’t all leading up to Arthur demanding for more secrets to be revealed. And Arthur didn’t ask because he doubted Merlin, no, he simply wanted to hear Merlin say it.

“Of course,” Merlin answered, like Arthur had been wrong to doubt that fact. It was an honest reaction, “I trust you with my life.”

“Then why won’t you tell me your secrets?” Arthur tried to poke at the subject a little, “It would be easier for both of us.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” Merlin tried to assure him, casually filling Arthur’s cup with more water.

“What then?”

“I… I don’t want to put you in that position,” Merlin said cryptically, “And I know you. I don’t think you would react well. Not to all of my secrets.”

“You won’t know until you try,” Arthur pointed out. He was pretty sure nothing Merlin could tell him would ever make Arthur hate him. Sure, there was a good chance he’d be mad at him for some time (they both knew that Merlin was hiding something big), but that happened so frequently anyway that it should hardly matter.

“I’m not willing to take that risk,” Merlin said and shook his head, “You’re too precious.”

“And what do you think I’m going to do?” Arthur smiled, still trying to keep the conversation light, while also letting Merlin know that his intentions were only the best, “Kill you?”

“No,” Merlin smiled, “That’s not like you. But you could send me away.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Arthur assured him, remembering a conversation between Merlin and Lancelot.

“Because you don’t know,” Merlin pointed out, “Things would be different if you knew.”

_Obviously_ , Arthur thought, _wasn’t that the point?_

“Why do you fear banishment so much?” Arthur asked, slightly changing the subject. For someone who had Camelot’s best interest at heart, Merlin seemed to ponder banishment an awful lot.

“Camelot is my home. I don’t want to leave.”

“Ealdor lies outside of Camelot,” Arthur pointed out, and Merlin smiled a little. It was a smile that Arthur recognized, because that was how his servant smiled when he was about to praise Arthur. Something which he didn’t like to do because ‘his head was already big enough as it was’. 

“I don’t want to leave because living here, being your servant, is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I refuse to let that go.”

“Yet you would still die for me?”

“Gladly.”

They changed topic after that. They talked about yesterday’s council meeting, and Merlin was beaming when Arthur told him about how useful his research had been. Despite having no more chores for Merlin to do, Arthur still told him that his reward was giving him the rest of the evening off. Merlin could only roll his eyes at that, while Arthur laughed. 

The next day, Arthur had a sort of epiphany, like he finally understood how to go about this whole Merlin situation. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps if Arthur knew more about Merlin, they would get closer and Merlin would tell him his secrets. 

Of course, Arthur needed to remind himself, it wasn’t that he didn’t _know_ Merlin, he most certainly did. He knew that a happy Merlin was incapable of silence, either humming or talking nonstop nonsense, whenever something put him in a good mood (which could be anything from butterflies to surviving yet another bandit attack). He knew that a sad Merlin avoided eye contact, not because he was ashamed of his emotions, but because he didn’t want to burden the people around him. He knew that Merlin would put lilies in Arthur’s almost-never-used vase, whenever the prince was in a bad mood, because once, not many months into Merlin’s first year in Camelot, Arthur had mentioned that lilies were his mother’s favorite flowers. He knew that Merlin was more skilled than anyone - even Merlin himself - gave him credit for. He knew that before coming to Camelot, Merlin’s favorite color had been blue, but now it was red. He knew that Merlin loved to tease and insult him, but would glare daggers at anyone who tried to do the same (knights of the roundtable notwithstanding). Arthur knew Merlin well, but he didn’t know much about him, especially before his time in Camelot. So that would be where he would start.

“What is Ealdor like?” Arthur asked that day at dinner. Merlin was eating with him again, and the atmosphere was easy. 

“You’ve been there,” Merlin pointed out, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Yes, but I don’t imagine that you are always preparing to fight raiders. If you were, you hardly needed my help.”

“Good point,” Merlin gave in and looked up in thought, “It’s quiet,” he said wistfully, “Not much happens, and the things that do happen are usually bad.”

“Like raiders?”

“Like raiders.”

“Sounds a little boring,” Arthur said like it was Merlin’s fault, but his servant just huffed.

“You can’t even imagine.”

“Is that why you left?” Arthur said, suddenly remembering that they’d had this conversation before. Lying awake in Ealdor, figuring out how to ensure most people’s lives, learning more about each other, and wishing social status would never harm their friendship. Back when Merlin had said he wanted to find a place to fit in, but didn’t yet know if he had succeeded. Perhaps, that was what Arthur needed to do, let Metlin know he fit in right here, by Arthur’s side.

“A little,” Merlin said, answering the question, “But mostly I just didn’t fit in anymore.” Arthur wasn’t sure if Merlin was remembering their conversation from all those years back, but the honesty was still there. The honesty which Arthur had never valued before. The honesty he now valued above everything else.

“How come?” Arthur asked this time, not wanting their conversation to go in circles, “You have no problem making friends here. Every loves you,” listening to how tacky and cheesy that sounded, Arthur added: “Although maybe that’s because idiots are likable.”

“Would explain why they like you so much,” Merlin chuckled, “But I guess Ealdor is just different. There weren’t many kids my age, I was quirky, clumsy, and, of course, I was born out of wedlock. It made me an easy target.”

“Amongst other things,” Arthur mumbled, but the prince thought that the reason Merlin so easily stood up to him when he first arrived was because Merlin had learned how to deal with bullies the hard way. And because Merlin wouldn’t let a bully get away with anything, prince or not.

“I don’t know,” Merlin continued, not really knowing how to explain himself, “There just wasn’t much for me there, and since my mother knew Gaius, well, I had an easy way out.”

“Do you miss her?”

“My mother?”

“Yes.”

“Every day,” Merlin confessed. Arthur wished he could understand, he couldn’t imagine missing his father every day. There were times, when Arthur was away, that he let himself forget him completely. He wondered how different it would be, were his mother still here.

“You should visit her more often,” Arthur said slowly, and Merlin smiled. A mischievous little smile.

“Oh, and will you give me time off to do that?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin. I would come too and we could make a hunting trip out of the journey.”

“Of course, sire.”

Arthur decided to stop there for the night. He didn’t want all the conversations to turn into interrogations, and Merlin had been so open with him tonight. He didn’t want to lose that feeling. If it continued, he would never have use for that dumb truth serum.

There was another topic Arthur wanted to revisit, one which they had discussed, almost only in passing or out of necessity. Magic. Between their last conversation, and their escaped prisoner’s story, Arthur felt that he could once again see the topic in a new light. It had been so easy to blame magic for what had happened to Morgana, but if a good man could be forced to flee and kill just for the price of growing healthy crops, then what was stopping stubborn and prideful Morgana from tearing apart a kingdom which would see her dead simply for having the ability to dream the future. Out of The Great Purge, vengeful sorcerers were born, and that burden should fall, not to magic, but to the Pendragons. 

When Merlin had left for the night, Arthur slipped out of bed and went to Geoffrey.

“My lord,” Geoffrey exclaimed as Arthur entered the library, unsurprisingly finding the scholar still working well into the night, “What can I do for you?”

“What materials do you have surrounding The Great Purge?” Arthur asked, cutting to the chase.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much, sire. The king burned all the records.”

“All of them?” Arthur raised an eyebrow, doing his best Gaius impersonation.

“Well… most of them.”

“Give me what you have. And don’t tell the king about this,” Arthur didn’t need his father to know what he was up to.

“Of course, sire.”

It took Geoffrey a good ten minutes to find something Arthur could use, and Arthur thanked him for his assistance as he listed back to his room for some late night reading. 

The records Arthur had gotten were scattered, incoherent and difficult to decipher. One record showed a list of names, most of them with a location and even more had their names crossed out. Arthur took a moment to recognize it as a list of targets. 

The first name he recognized was _Balinor_ \- his name was the first which had not been crossed out. His location was marked as _court,_ which Arthur found strange, but decided not to dwell on. Further down on the list was another which Arthur recognized: _Nimueh._ Her name, too, was uncrossed and her location was marked as _court_. Arthur almost took a pen and crossed out their names, but decided against it. This was no longer a list of who was dead or alive, it was a list of people who had been killed in an act of injustice, regardless of what they may have used their powers for. 

Another list of names contained potential targets, or characters of suspicion. On this list, Arthur found many he recognized. Not necessarily people he knew personally, but nobles whose names were familiar, whose sons or daughters he knew. None of these names were crossed out, but their location had been updated frequently. The first name on the list which shocked Arthur was _Gaius._ He knew their physician had once practiced magic, but the prince found it hard to believe that his father, the king, would employ a person so close to him, who was also worthy of making the list.

The next name made Arthur put the scroll away and move on, because he did not want to think about what could have aspired for her name to be on the list. _Hunith._ Location: _Ealdor._ Arthur would at least make sure that Merlin never saw the list in his life.

The scattered accounts of The Purge kept Arthur up almost all night. Reports of successful capturings, a resumé of the day magic had been banned, its practice punishable by death. And Arthur couldn’t help but notice, and somehow feel guilty, for the fact that this had all happened immediately after his birth. It couldn’t be a coincidence. It wasn’t that Arthur was only just making the connection. Even if he had been in complete denial, Morgause had told him that his birth was the direct reason for his father’s endless war on magic. To this day, Arthur would never know if there had been any truth to what Morgause had told and showed him. But often, he would dream of it, dream of his mother, and the words she had said. On good days he would cling to her voice, saying that she was proud of him. On bad days, he would hear the echo of how he was born of magic, how his father had sacrificed her life to have an heir. And though Arthur never once spoke of this, on those bad days, his vase would be filled with lilies. 

From what Arthur could gather from the worn remnants, magic had been accepted and openly practiced in Camelot before the purge. It supported what the escaped prisoner had told him - that Camelot had once been a safe place for sorcerers. It was hard for him to wrap his head around, a Camelot where Uther was king and magic was practiced freely. It seemed like something from a fantasy, but it was the only conclusion Arthur could come to from this tiny bit of information. It would explain why known magic users, a powerful sorcerer and a dragonlord, would have had places in the court. 

Arthur kept thinking about it as he returned the material to the library, not finding Geoffrey there, but placing it where he could find it. As he walked back to his chambers, bis body exhausted, but his mind fully awake, he thought that perhaps, he should simply go to someone who knew. Afterall, Gaius lived right here in the castle. But that was for tomorrow. Now, he needed sleep.

Arthur was not happy about being woken the next morning. He could feel the few hours of sleep he had had, and as soon as Merlin let the sun through, he crawled under the covers, and held them tight so Merlin couldn’t take them. Even if he was tired, Arthur was still the stronger of the two.

“Arthur, you have to get up.”

“No,” Arthur replied and tightly shut his eyes, hoping it would somehow let him fall asleep again. Merlin did not let that happen.

When Merlin’s attempts at taking the covers from him were being stopped, he settled for grabbing Arthur’s ankles and pulled him to the floor. However, Arthur was stubborn and merely wrapped himself tighter into the covers, refusing to get up. He heard Merlin sigh heavily and dramatically.

“Come on, Arthur! You have things to do.” 

“Do them for me,” Arthur demanded, making himself comfortable on the floor.

“Even if I wanted to, I don’t think your father would be particularly happy about seeing me in your place.”

Arthur groaned. Merlin had a point. He hated when Merlin was in the right. It would seem that Arthur didn’t have a choice as he let Merlin wake him up, get him dressed and ate a quick breakfast before heading off to the great hall where Arthur was supposed to join his father for all the public affairs that were to happen today. 

The whole affair was rather boring - although Arthur was sure to let everyone know that his yawns were a result of little sleep and not boredom. 

Late into the afternoon, a woman came to them, reporting a sighting of witchcraft. A bubble of smoke, she had said, smoke so red it might as well have been blood, covering almost an entire forest. It had lasted half a night, only illuminated by the light of the moon.

“Where was this sighting?” The king asked the woman before them.

“In the east, sire, half a day’s ride from the border.”

“We shall send a patrol out at first light to investigate,” Uther declared, but Arthur cut in.

“My lord,” Arthur said, letting his father know he meant business, “The place of the sighting was close to Lord Agravaine’s current location. If such a display of magic was truly there, surely they would have noticed. Do not forget that Agravaine has some of Camelot’s finest knights with him should anything occur.”

There was a moment of silence, before the king made a decision: “Very well,” he gave in, “If anything happened, we should trust that they would send for reinforcements if needed.”

It wasn’t long after that the court was dismissed and Arthur could finally return to his chambers. He wondered if it was too late for him to lie down and sleep for an hour or two before continuing with his day, but the sun was already low in the sky, and Arthur decided to merely push through and just called it an early night as soon as he could.

“You’re very tired today,” Merlin commented, and Arthur couldn’t even find the energy to come up with something snarky or even roll his eyes.

“Yes, very,” he simply said and had to resist just putting his head on the table and fall asleep there.

“And here I thought I sent you to bed early enough,” Merlin sighed, “You really are a child, aren’t you?”

“Shut up Merlin.”

“Oh look, he’s back,” Merlin exclaimed falsely as he set down Arthur’s plate, “Are you awake enough to eat or would you like me to feed you?”

“I hate you.”

“Of course, sire.”

“Eat with me.”

Merlin chuckled as he set the table for himself. There was wine instead of water tonight. Merlin did that sometime. A random act of kindness, he called it. Arthur liked that about him. And so, it probably wasn’t the best time to begin a conversation about magic, but Arthur was too sleepy to comprehend that fact. The wine wasn’t helping particularly either.

“You knew of Will’s magic when you left Ealdor, right?”

“Yes,” Merlin confessed rather easily. It was probably the wine. Merlin couldn’t hold his liquor at all, “We bonded over being outsiders.”

“But magic is legal in Cenred’s kingdom, is it not? Being a sorcerer wouldn’t be as hard there as here.”

Merlin made a face at that. A face which Arthur couldn’t quite pinpoint, but put it down to Merlin recalling a bad memory: “Ealdor is not too far from Camelot,” Merlin began, his face still morphed into something quite un-Merlin like, “Tales of evil and dark magic were not less common in Ealdor than it is here. Although, for us, it was merely a horror story, meant to discourage us from ever seeking magic.”

“Why?” Arthur questioned curiously. If one had the mindset that magic didn’t actually corrupt, then why not use it? It sounded like it could be quite useful for things like growing crops or summoning wind to fight off evil raiders.

“Why?” Merlin asked rather surprised, probably quite taken aback by Arthur’s sudden interest in magic. Arthur was honestly a little surprised himself. Was talking about it in a semi-ambiguous light considered treason? Perhaps, but Arthur was too tired to care.

Merlin sighed, took a gulp of the wine, as he began a story which Arthur wasn’t entirely sure he had asked for, but appreciated nonetheless: “Cenred didn’t just permit magic,” Merlin began darkly, “He craved it, took it for himself. Anyone who showed signs of possessing magic were taken, made slaves in his army and sacrificed in his pointless wars. When I was young, perhaps seven or eight, a boy about ten years older than me came to our village. He was just passing through, trying to flee to Mercia, where he wasn’t known or hunted. Cenred’s knights caught up to him before he even passed through Ealdor. They chained him up, put him in a cage and took him to their king.” Merlin shuddered at the memory. Arthur felt horrified by the tale and the idea that a young Merlin had been witness to it.

“Later, the mother visited Ealdor, trying to escape the town that reminded her of her son. She told my mother the _crime_ he had committed,” Merlin spat out the word _crime_ like it was poison and Arthur braced himself, “He had tried to cheer his bedridden sister up by making a flower.” Merlin took another sip of the wine, “We were taught to never touch magic if we valued our freedom.”

“Then why did Will learn magic?” Arthur questioned. Surely, Will would have been subjected to those stories too.

“He didn’t,” Merlin sighed, “At least, he didn’t choose to. His powers just came to him, so he had no choice but to learn how to control them, if he didn’t want to get caught.”

“That’s the same with Morgana, isn’t it?” Arthur said, being more and more certain that Morgana had never had a choice when it came to magic, “She never choose her powers. They just appeared. Is it normal?” Arthur wondered how many had been put to death for something they never choose. It was heartbreaking.

“I’m not an expert, Arthur, but I don’t think it’s uncommon. I mean, what are the chances that both magic users I’ve met have been born that way?”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Why all this talk of magic?” Merlin questioned after a while, still nursing his wine, like he didn’t want to drink, but somehow needed it to keep this conversation going.

“I’m not sure,” Arthur confessed. He honestly didn’t know what all this would lead towards. He hadn’t expected that his quest to get to know Merlin better had ended in educating himself about magic, but maybe that was just another way to get closer to Merlin. His servant might not be a sorcerer himself, but he had known people with magic, been sympathetic towards them and used it to save Arthur’s life. And it gave them something to talk about, something Arthur wouldn’t trust anyone else to be a part of, “I think, regardless of magic’s true nature, my father cannot be right. I’ve seen too much that proves him wrong.”

“You seem very sure about that,” Merlin pointed out. His voice was oddly soft, none of its usual sharpness coloring it.

“Don’t believe me?” Arthur tried to tease, but the taunt came out weak, and Merlin only smiled at him.

“I’m just curious.”

“I’ve been thinking about Morgana, all the things you’ve said, things I’ve seen and experienced. I doesn’t add up. Morgana, I think it’s our fault she did what she did. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like, to suddenly possess a power you didn’t ask for and know that if the king ever found out, he would have her executed. To look at the pyres and know that one day, that could be you, and you never even did anything wrong. Wouldn’t we be the ones to blame for that?”

“I don’t think you should blame yourself for everything she did. There shouldn’t be an excuse when it comes to murdering innocent people,” Merlin said, instantly wanting to reassure Arthur. He always did that. Made sure Arthur never blamed himself for anything (unless he was really angry with him), and Arthur always appreciated it, even if thoroughly disagreed with Merlin. Sometimes Arthur had to make wrong right, and though he couldn’t save Morgana, perhaps he could save others.

“I don’t mean that she didn’t do anything wrong,” Arthur explained, “Just, I don’t think magic itself isn’t the cause of her evil, just her fear.” Arthur was silent for a moment before he continued, “What would you do if you had magic in Camelot?”

“What I always do,” Merlin smiled, his eyes shining with honesty and sincerity, “Serve you. Protect you. Save your royal ass while getting no credit.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile too: “Of course you would.”

This continued on for roughly a week. Arthur would invite Merlin to eat with him and they’d just talk. After they had talked about magic, they had talked about Gwen, and then about the knights, and it seemed that Merlin slowly let down his guard around Arthur. A guard that had never seemed visible before, but was slowly falling apart. And it felt nice. To talk like friends. To pretend every evening that they weren’t prince and servant. Merely friends. 

But time was running out, and with only a few days left until Agravaine’s return, Arthur had to get to Merlin to talk. If not about everything, then just about his uncle. He had a good grasp of their relationship, and why Merlin didn’t like him (accusing Agravaine of working for Morgana gave a pretty clear picture), but without anything resembling proof, Arthur couldn’t act.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Arthur said that evening, and Merlin froze for a second before looking up at Arthur to figure out where their conversation was headed, “You don’t have to lie, but I can understand if you don’t want to share everything. Just... You don’t have to lie.”

“I know,” Merlin said quietly, “I know, it’s just… easier sometimes.”

“I didn’t take you for a liar,” Arthur said, a little bitter.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to burden you, and I think lying works better then. If I say nothing, you get curious. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I think it’s a little late for that. You’re not a knight, Merlin.”

“No, I’m too smart for that,” Merlin tried to lighten the mood. It helped a little because Arthur found himself smiling at his servant’s idiotic antics. He dropped the topic for now. Hopefully Merlin would think about what he had said.

Two days before Agravaine’s expected arrival, Merlin brought Arthur all of his favorite foods to celebrate Arthur having won over the council, and was beginning work on drawing up the exact route the new road would take. Arthur felt bad for using the joyous occasion to make Merlin talk.

“What do you think of my uncle?” Arthur asked and Merlin almost choked on his food.

“Why do you ask?” Merlin said between coughs.

“You don’t get along very well,” Arthur explained, although ‘not getting along’ was perhaps the understatement of the century.

“I guess I’m just overprotective,” Merlin shrugged, “He just arrived out of nowhere, and he was very close to you. I don’t know him like you do, so his presence is sometimes hard for me to accept.”

Arthur gaped at Merlin for a second. Merlin hadn’t deflected or refused to answer the question. Nor had he tried to reassure Arthur by lying about his relationship with Agravaine, no, Merlin had perfectly deduced the information Arthur had and told a story that fit into what he believed Arthur knew. He had admitted to acting out of worry for his prince, but explained it by not knowing the already established relationship between uncle and nephew. He had admitted to not being comfortable around him, but said it was due to lack of knowledge. The lie had been easy and effortless. Arthur would never have known that he had lied if it hadn’t been for that one conversation he had overheard. If it wasn’t for that one interaction Merlin couldn’t have known Arthur had been privy to. And the lie felt like it took them so many steps backwards. Arthur wasn’t sure how feel. Maybe, perhaps, he felt a little betrayed. 

“You’re lying,” Arthur said simply, and Merlin’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Arthur to see through him, “I thought we were over this.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said slowly, wanting to explain himself. Arthur only reluctantly let him continue, “There are some things I can’t tell you.”

Arthur sighed, frustrated, “Yes, Merlin, I know. You think it’s better if I don’t know anything.” Arthur ran his finger through his hair, organizing his thoughts, “But you don’t have to lie. At least just say that you don’t want to talk. And even so!” Arthur continued before Merlin could say anything else, “This issue that you have with Agravaine. Don’t you think I deserve to know?”

“But I don’t have any proof!” Merlin snapped, and tore his gaze away from Arthur in frustration.

“Clearly you must know something!” Arthur raised his voice, their fight slowly escalating, as they both got fed up with each other, “Even if you only suspect, I have a right to know!”

“He’s you family Arthur!” Merlin yelled back as he rose from his chair, partly to make a point, partly to put some more distance between the two of them.

“Which is even more reason to tell me. I was blind to Morgana’s betrayal, and look where that got me.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Merlin hissed, looking anywhere but at Arthur.

“Who then?” Arthur said harshly, “You?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Merlin said, his voice still raised, not masking his frustration at all. 

“Of course it does!” Arthur said and stood up as well, taking a step closer to Merlin, “You don’t want my family to betray me, but what happens if you never say anything? If he makes a move before you get your evidence?”

“And what happens if I’m wrong?” Merlin was beginning to sound desperate, “Who would you choose then? Your lying servant or your trusted uncle? We both know the answer.”

“No we don’t! Stop making decisions on my behalf!”

“I am not,” Merlin defended and Arthur wanted to throw his chair against a wall just to give his anger an outlet.

“Yes, you are. The lies have to stop Merlin. A few secrets I can live with, but this!” Arthur gestured between the two of them, “This will hurt us both in the end.”

Merlin bit his lip, possibly to keep himself from saying something he would later regret, the frustration still written painly on his face as he left Arthur’s chambers without another word.

Arthur kicked the chair in anger, and it fell to the floor, the crash breaking through his now silent chambers. Arthur’s eyes moved to the small cupboard where the still unused truth serum stood. Tomorrow he would use it. For both their sakes, Arthur would know the truth. He would give Merlin only one more chance to talk, hoping that he would have calmed down tomorrow morning, but if nothing changed, Arthur’s hand would be forced to act.

When Merlin woke Arthur up the next morning, the air was strained and tense. Merlin was acting like a proper servant, and it felt all so wrong. They spoke nothing of the night before. They barely spoke at all. And that, more than anything, helped Arthur make up his mind.

They didn’t dine together that evening, but Arthur bid Merlin stay late anyway, and poured two glasses of wine, one of them, laced with a truth serum, 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, trying to ease the tension. He didn’t know exactly what he was apologizing for, but they seemed to be the right words to say.

“That’s new,” Merlin said sarcastically, but accepted the offered wine anyway. He took a steadying breath “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

_That’s what you’re sorry for?_ Arthur thought, but wanting to keep their conversation from taking a bad turn, he held his tongue.

“Let’s forget about it,” Arthur put on a smile and raised his glass. Merlin followed suit and the tension seemed to slowly disappear, and a careful smile appeared on Merlin’s face.

“To friendship,” Arthur declared.

“To friendship.”

They drank and Arthur put down his glass, ready to finally get some answers, but as he looked at Merlin, concern spiked in his mind. Merlin was looking at him, eyes wide with disbelief, as he dropped the glass, letting it shatter on the floor, the remaining liquid spilling out by his feet.

“Merlin...” Arthur took a step forward, but Merlin backed away, his expression growing increasingly horrified.

“No,” Merlin said hoarsely, rejecting Arthur, “No.”

“Merlin, what...”

“You...” Merlin interrupted, his voice cracking, like he was about to cry, struggling to speak through tears threatening to spill, trying to keep his emotions in reign, “I trusted you.”

It clicked for Arthur then. Merlin knew. He didn’t know how he knew, but it didn’t matter. Because Merlin _knew._

“Merlin, I had to,” Arthur tried to explain, but Merlin shook his head, his breathing growing more rapid. He widened the gap between them, not letting Arthur see his tears. “Merlin, calm down,” Arthur tried again, taking a step closer, trying to close the distance between them, but Merlin wouldn’t let him. 

“Stay away from me,” Merlin said harshly, voice still strained and Arthur stopped moving, respecting Merlin’s request.

Merlin’s hands moved to his chest, like he didn’t know what do with himself, and he fell to his knees, “It hurts,” he muttered, and then turned his gaze to Arthur again, his eyes filled with sorrow and betrayal, hurt and fear, “Is this my punishment?”

“No,” Arthur pleaded, “I just wanted the truth.” It wasn’t meant as a punishment. Only a necessity. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Then I was right,” Merlin said, the first tear spilling over and running down his cheek, “The truth was enough for you to want me dead.”

“Merlin, what are you-” Arthur drew in a sharp breath as he realized that had misread the situation, and he was quickly by Merlin’s side, trying to take his servant into his arms as he called for the guards, for anyone who could hear him. Merlin struggled against him, but Arthur wasn’t going to let him.

“Merlin, please,” he tried, not having time to explain. Right now he needed to act.

“No. Let go,” Merlin said weakly, trying to push Arthur away, even though all his strength was slowly leaving him. Merlin was starting to gasp for air, small whines escaping his throat as the pain increased, the poison coursing through his body.

“I didn’t mean-” Arthur tried, the words getting stuck in his throat as it slowly sank in that Merlin was currently dying in his arms. Dying and thinking that had been what Arthur wanted, “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Arthur said so quietly and broken that Merlin wouldn’t have heard. Tears were stinging in his eyes, as he tried once again to get a good grip at Merlin to finally get him to Gaius, hoping it wasn’t all too late.

“I loved you,” Merlin said through tears and betrayal, “You were my friend and I loved you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about that, but I did tell you that I wouldn't just repeat what I did in 'a drop of truth'. 
> 
> On a more positive note, thank you so much for all you support on the companion fic. For the few of you who had concerns: don't worry, I won't start writing until this fic is fully written, and I have a small Merlin project I'd like to work on next just give myself a little break from this particular universe. For now, I have scheduled the companion fic to begin by the end of this year or maybe at the beginning of next year depending on how much time I end up having.
> 
> For more updates on these things, I'd suggest following me on [tumblr](https://winglesscrows.tumblr.com/), where I post updates, sneak peaks and other fun things :)


	9. My Secret is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur deals with the aftermath of poisoning Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about how I ended last chapter. Truly. I know it was horrible. But I did mention that this fic was created from three scenes I had in my head, and Arthur accidentally poisoning Merlin with what he thought was a truth serum was the last one of those moments so it was truly inevitable. I apologize again.
> 
> On a different note. There is only one chapter after this, but I do need a little more time to write it. I expect to update in 8-10 days, so please be patient with me :)

Arthur pulled himself together as he took his unconscious manservant and sprinted to the physician’s quarters. He passed a pair of guards on his way to the other side of the castle, frantically yelling at them to get Elyan to Gaius as fast as possible, and only heard as the guards too started sprinting down the corridor to get the knight. Despite Arthur’s quick steps and frantic breathing echoing down the empty hallways, nothing seemed louder than the sound of Merlin heaving for air, sounding like nothing entered his lungs. Arthur didn’t look at him as he ran, afraid of what he would see should he look. As long as he could hear Merlin breathe, it would be okay. It would be okay.

 

Gaius was rightfully startled when Arthur burst into his chambers at such a late hour, but didn’t get to ask any question as he saw the state of his ward. He immediately gestured for Arthur to put Merlin down on the bed, and Arthur held up a candle to light Gaius’ field of vision.

 

“He’s been poisoned,” Gaius said, working through the unpleasant surprise by stating the obvious, “How did this happen?”

 

“He drank a truth serum,” Arthur tried to explain, his voice morphed into something he couldn’t recognize. He wanted to scream and yell that this wasn’t supposed to happen. That this wasn't his fault. But now wasn’t the time for excuses. They just needed to find a cure. “I don’t know why this happened. It was fine before.”

 

“Truth serums are fickle things,” Gaius explained, as he kept examining Merlin, going into full physician mode to prevent his emotions from take over. Arthur should be thankful for that. As soon as Merlin was better, Gaius would be nothing short of angry, “Many of them will lose their properties after less than a day, usually developing into something different.”

 

They should have researched that. They should have known, taken every precaution. They should have- 

 

Elyan appeared by the door and hurried to Merlin’s side as soon as he saw him.

 

“I need to know what was in the truth serum,” Gaius said urgently, and Elyan shook his head, getting into a less worried state as he recited the recipe.

 

As the two of them worked together, Arthur took a few steps back, giving them space to move freely, and collapsed on the bench. This was not meant to happen. It might not have been right to use the truth serum, but what cruel fate had dictated that for his actions, Arthur would poison his servant, his closest friend? Was their friendship the prize for breaking Merlin’s trust? Arthur wouldn’t be able to bear that. All he had done, he had done for Merlin, to stop him from getting hurt. 

 

But he had gotten hurt. Arthur had hurt him. Poisoned him, tricked him and betrayed him. And if he died- no! Arthur refused to let that be an option. Merlin wouldn’t die, but what would happen then? Merlin had always been loyal, but what reason would he have to remain? And what would Arthur do then? If there was no Merlin, then surely, there was no Arthur either.

 

It was perhaps an hour later when Elyan moved Merlin from the patient’s bed up to his own room to rest. Arthur wanted to follow them, but Gaius blocked his way.

 

“What were you thinking?” Gaius accused and Arthur felt smaller than he had in years. It was never pleasant to have the ever patient Gaius yelling at you,  “Did it never occur to you that you didn’t know what you were dealing with?”

 

“No, we-” Arthur wanted to say they had tested it, that they had made sure to not give Merlin something they wouldn’t know what was, but what knowledge did they possess? They weren’t physicians. They were knights. Stupid, foolish knights who thought there was a simply solution to everything, “I don’t have an excuse,” Arthur said quietly, “I made a mistake, and Merlin had to pay for that. I’m sorry. I never meant-”

 

“I know you didn’t,” Gaius interrupted, “God knows that you would never do something like this intentionally. But even if your intentions hadn’t backfired, do you still think you did the right thing?”

 

“No,” Arthur shook his head. He couldn’t look at Gaius as he spoke, “I was… angry, scared. It seemed like an easy way to be rid of all my problems. I knew it wasn’t right. I didn’t want to use it, but I just got… frustrated and, God, I wish I had never done it,” Arthur looked up at Gaius, “But please, don’t blame Elyan or Gwaine for this. I was the one who chose to use it. They aren’t to blame.”

 

“At least you’re responsible,” Gaius scoffed, still very angry with Arthur, “I would send you back to your chambers, but I think it would do more harm than good. Stay as long as you like.”

 

“Thank you, Gaius.”

 

None of them slept that night. Elyan stayed with Merlin in his room, watching over him, sometimes apologizing for what had happened. Arthur had told him it wasn’t his fault, but Elyan didn’t listen. Arthur couldn’t stand to stay with Merlin for long and eventually settled on sitting by the small staircase leading up to his room instead, the door open just enough for Arthur to be able to see Elyan sitting against the wall. Gaius sat by his bench, half focused on a book and some of the work that was yet to be finished. Gaius didn’t speak to any of them, and the quiet night turned to morning after what seemed like an eternity.

 

The peace was disrupted when Gwaine waltzed into the physician’s chambers, asking for Merlin.

 

“One of the maids was asking for him,” Gwaine said, and Arthur looked at Gaius and then back at Gwaine when it became clear that the physician would not explain what was going on. Arthur stood up and went over to Gwaine. Almost wanting the knight’s response to be punching him in the face. He deserved that.

 

“I used the truth serum,” Arthur said, and Gwaine’s face dropped as he realized that Arthur spoke of this freely in the presence of Gaius, because it had gone wrong.

 

“What happened?”

 

“It-”

 

“It poisoned him,” Elyan interrupted as he emerged from Merlin’s room, “He barely survived.”

 

Gwaine looked between the two of them, waiting for the punchline to the joke, but was slowly forced to realize that they were speaking the truth. As he did, he pushed past them to get to Merlin. Arthur and Elyan didn’t follow him, merely looked at each other, surprised that Gwaine’s first instinct hadn’t been to throw a punch. It usually was.

 

Gwaine stayed with Merlin for roughly ten minutes before he came back out, not stopping as he left the room: “Fetch me when he wakes up,” he said on his way out, “You know where I will be.” And with that he was gone. Arthur promised himself that if Merlin hadn’t woken within a day, he would at least stop Gwaine from drinking himself to death. 

 

Another hour passed, Arthur and Elyan still unsure what to do with themselves and startled as Guinevere burst through the door looking for Gaius.

 

“Lancelot’s party returned,” she panted, trying to regain her breath, talking rapidly to Gaius and possibly not even having registered the two other people in the room, “But sir Lucan is badly injured. Lancelot is bringing him here.”

 

“What manner of injury, Gwen?” Gaius asked as he cleared his work bench for sir Lucan.

 

“A stab wound in the leg,” she informed, still slightly out of it, “But it’s been some time. Lancelot said that it’s probably infected, even though they tried to keep it clean.”

 

“I’ll examine it. For now, fetch me some water. Take your brother with you, and bring me a bowl of hot water as well.”

 

Gwen spun around and finally looked at Elyan and Arthur, who were awkwardly stood to the side, “What…?” She began, but then snapped out of it as she just grabbed her brother, sprinting down to get the water.

 

“Sire,” Gaius began, “If you won’t leave, stay with Merlin. We don’t want this place to get crowded.” It was Gaius’ polite manner of telling him that since he couldn’t assist, he should just leave. Arthur did as he was told, and closed the door to Merlin’s room just as he heard more people entering the physician’s quarters. Arthur leaned against the door, listening to what was happening on the other side of it.

 

“Put him down here,” Gaius instructed, “What happened?”

 

“This was yesterday,” Lancelot began, “We decided to take a detour on the way back, through the forest of Ascetir. There had been signs of sorcery only a week before and though we had been investigating during the harvest, Lord Agravaine needed us to stay close, so a thorough investigation was never allowed. As it would delay our arrival in Camelot only by an hour or so, I convinced Lord Agravaine to let us investigate on our way back. I didn’t expect us to find anything, but it was worth a try. At least it would put the citizens at ease, as they had been too frightened to even venture close to the forest.

 

As we searched through the forest, sirs Lucan and Kay went off on their own. I urged them to stay together, but they must have separated for Lucan suddenly let out a scream, while Kay was both uninjured and had no idea of what had happened. We hurried back as quickly as we could, kept the wound clean, but it’s been almost a day now.”

 

“Do not blame yourself, Lancelot. Sir Lucan is a knight of Camelot, being injured comes with the job.”

 

“I just can’t help but feel that there was more I could have done.”

 

“Lancelot...” Arthur was immediately on his feet and rushing to Merlin’s side, as his servant seemed to slowly regain consciousness, the name of his most honorable knight on his lips. It took Merlin a moment, but he slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at Arthur, before he immediately looked away, “Leave,” he spat weakly, trying to turn his head away from the prince, and while Arthur wanted nothing more than to stay and talk, apologize for what he had done, he stepped away.

 

“My lord?” Lancelot said as Arthur emerged from Merlin’s room, taking the knight by surprise.

 

“He woke up,” Arthur informed Gaius, “And he’s asking for Lancelot.”

 

“Woke up? What’s going on?”

 

“He was poisoned,” Arthur explained as Gaius moved past him to get to Merlin, leaving the two of them alone.

 

“How?” Lancelot was getting more distressed by the second. Learning that Merlin had gotten hurt, while he was away on a mission, where he already blamed himself for an injured knight wouldn’t be easy on his mind, and Arthur was about to make it so much worse. Arthur had always wondered, if Lancelot was forced to choose between him and Merlin, who would be cast away? Under the current circumstances, Lancelot’s choice shouldn’t be difficult.

 

“I made a mistake,” Arthur began, “I wanted him to talk, got my hands on a truth serum and used it on him. It backfired.”

 

The look on Lancelot’s face was somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. He looked at Arthur for a while, before pushing past him and joining Gaius in Merlin’s room. It wasn’t like Lancelot to act on anger, or even show his anger, but more than anything, Arthur really wished that someone would just punch him. Punish him, free him from this hellish situation and just give him the push to do something about it.

 

Arthur looked down at sir Lucan on the patient’s bed. His wound had been treated, and though it looked like he had a fever, he didn’t look in pain. Arthur should demand reports from Lancelot and Agravaine, figure out what had happened on the mission, but Arthur wasn’t in the right headspace to do so. Instead, he left the physician’s chambers and headed towards the Darkling Woods with nothing but his sword and a small empty basket.

 

Arthur came back hours later, and the first person he bumped into was none other than Leon.

 

“Sire!” He exclaimed as the two crossed paths in a hallway, “Where have you been? The king has been asking for you.”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Arthur said, “Inform him that I won’t be available for the rest of the day.”

 

“Sire?” Leon asked, more concerned than before, “What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing the king needs to worry about.” At some point, Arthur would let Leon in on what had happened, but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to tell more people. 

 

Before Arthur made it all the way back to the physician’s quarters, he met Guinevere who was just leaving, possibly after having assisted Gaius (After Morgana had left, her duties had varied depending on where the castle was the busiest, and if you wanted to find her, going to Gaius was the best guess). Of course, when Arthur said that he met Guinevere, he meant more the sort of; they bumped into each other and after taking one look at him, she walked up to him, anger apparent in her features and firmly slapped him so hard he thought he heard ringing in his ears. She looked like she had something to say, but decided against it, wanting Arthur to know he wasn’t even worthy of hearing her voice - even if what she would have said would surely have been nothing good - and left him alone on the staircase leading up to his destination. 

 

“I see you met Gwen,” Gaius commented as Arthur entered through the door. At first, the comment confused the prince, until he reached up to the cheek she had struck and found it sore. There was probably a red mark in the shape of her hand.

 

“Is he awake?” Arthur asked carefully, and put the now filled basket on the table before removing his sword to put it away. He wanted to look as harmless as possible.

 

“He is,” Gaius said, his back turned to the king, not wanting to give him attention, “But I can’t promise that he wants to see you.”

 

“I can imagine,” Arthur said, trying to force a smile. It didn’t work, “I just want to explain what happened. Even if what I did wasn’t honorable, at least I want him to know that killing him was not the intent.”

 

“If he was smart,, he would know that already,” Gaius remarked, and Arthur managed a small, real smile.

 

“But he’s an idiot,” Arthur answered, and took the basket as he headed up to Merlin’s room.

 

Arthur entered the small room and found his servant sitting, leaning against  the wall, his feet covered by the blanket, but his knees loosely tucked up to his chest, his arms falling weakly around them. He looked at Arthur as he entered, but looked away just as quickly. Arthur didn’t expect forgiveness to come easy, if at all. The crime he had committed was no better than what had happened. Often death was better than betrayal, and Merlin surely thought that. If his reluctance to speak to Arthur came on the cause of thinking his prince wanted him dead, Arthur could hardly imagine what he would think when he learned the truth.

 

Arthur had never been a man of words, much preferring to show himself through actions and sat down the small basket by the end of the bed, Merlin hardly acknowledging it.

 

“It’s blueberries,” Arthur said, gaining no visual reaction from his servant - if he even was that anymore. Perhaps, Arthur feared, that if Merlin decided to stay, that was all he would be. Maybe he wouldn’t even be Arthur’s.

 

“Why are you here Arthur?” Merlin asked coldly, never looking at him, his gaze fixed at the small window which revealed the bright blue, cloudless sky. “Here to finish the job? Is that what those berries are for? Or perhaps you wanted me to survive so I would suffer,” There was a slight hint of sarcasm in his tone, but it wasn’t how Merlin usually talked. He talked like he was a prisoner, taunting his guards to kill him as he would never give them what they wanted anyway.

 

“I always took you for a merciful executioner,” Merlin continued, the disappointment and spite in his voice reminding Arthur of how his father talked about the knights of the round table, “Perhaps I was wrong about that too.”

 

Arthur didn’t know what words would be the best to choose. He had hoped Merlin would give him a more silent treatment, letting Arthur speak freely. That was what Merlin usually did when he was upset. He was quiet. Arthur felt like a fool for thinking he could predict what Merlin would do. Hadn’t these last few weeks, months even, shown Arthur that he didn’t know his servant as well as he thought he did? Merlin didn’t give Arthur a chance to think about what to say, as he kept the defying tone of voice with which he stripped away all the courage and confidence Arthur had tried to take with him as he had first entered into this conversation.

 

“Are you going to burn me?” Merlin asked so casually, Arthur thought that couldn’t possibly have been what Merlin has said. He didn’t sound afraid, only slightly disapproving. Both of them hated the pyre, Merlin knew that, so why would he think Arthur would have it in him to burn him?

 

“Why would I burn you?” Arthur voiced his thoughts, truly perplexed by Merlin’s thought process, not even wanting to think about Merlin in the flames, about Arthur being the one to have put him there.

 

Merlin didn’t answer. Didn’t even so much as move or change his expression, which Arthur couldn’t read. His lips pressed in a thin line, but the rest of his pale face unbothered, like he had somehow accepted his fate. A fate Arthur was unaware of. 

 

Arthur carefully took a step closer to the bed. Merlin still didn’t react, so Arthur said what he had been meaning to say all along: “I’m sorry.” That gave him a reaction, but not quite the one he had wanted. Merlin huffed, and let out a short and forced laugh, making him sound distant and detached. Nothing like the usual bright laugh, Arthur had grown so used to.

 

“For what?” Merlin said when he stopped laughing, “Not killing me faster?”

 

“No, Merlin,” Arthur said, raising his voice slightly as he got a little fed up with how this conversation was developing, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 

Merlin made another sarcastic sound. Not believing Arthur for a second. “What. So you just grabbed the first poison you could find and hoped it would kill me quickly? You should just have run me through. Then I wouldn’t have survived and you wouldn’t have to be here.”

 

Arthur clenched his fist. He needed to clear up this misunderstanding and he needed Merlin to tell him why he was so hellbent on thinking that Arthur wanted him dead. He closed the space between them, kneeling in front of the bed, partially blocking Merlin’s view to the mirror, hoping to get his message across. Of course, Merlin still refused to look at him.

 

“Merlin. I didn’t want you dead,” he said firmly, “I don’t now and I doubt that I ever will.”

 

“Why not?” Merlin questioned, like he wanted Arthur to consider just running him through, “I lie, I keep secrets and I’ve lost the trust I spend so long trying to gain. What use do you have for me? Especially now? Anyone could do your laundry, sharpen your sword, clean your damn room and whatever servants need to do. If that’s all I’ll end up becoming, then there is no point. And that’s not even touching the-” Merlin breathed in sharply, stopping himself from continuing.

 

“Merlin. Listen to me,” Arthur tried again, but Merlin kept interrupting him.

 

“I am listening.”

 

“No, you’re not. Just shut up and let me explain. I won’t claim that I tried to do something honorable, because I didn’t. I just wanted you to tell the truth for once. I hadn’t even intended for you to tell me everything, just the most important things. What I put in your drink was a truth serum, and it almost killed you. I am sorry for what happened and I am sorry for betraying your trust. It wasn’t right. Even if you hadn’t almost died. It wasn’t right.”

 

Merlin looked at Arthur for the first time. It didn’t look like Merlin was necessarily believing him, more like he needed to look at Arthur’s face to confirm whether or not he was being truthful. Merlin had always been good at reading Arthur, so he would know that Arthur had spoken nothing but the truth. 

 

“So you...” Merlin began slowly, his voice a mere whisper, “You don’t know anything?” For the first time, Merlin’s voice bore no trace of hatred or anger. Arthur felt a little more at ease.

 

“I wouldn’t say I know  _ nothing, _ ” Arthur joked, trying to build on the improving atmosphere, “But no, I don’t know anything. Especially not anything I would want you dead over.”

 

Merlin kept eye contact for another second before turning away again, trying to focus on the window once again.

 

“Merlin,” Arthur pressed on, “I can understand if you don’t trust me right now, but that doesn’t make it any less important that you tell me about Agravaine. If not for me, then for the rest of Camelot. Your friends, Lancelot, Gwaine, Gaius.”

 

“No,” Merlin said weakly, “I can’t.” This time Arthur knew that Merlin’s voice was strained because he didn’t want to cry. He knew what Arthur said made sense, yet he still did not speak. Whether it was because of what Arthur had done or something else, the prince couldn’t know, but he would like to think there was an underlying reason. More than Merlin just not having the proof he wanted.

 

“What do you think will happen, Merlin? Do you really think I would kill you for being honest with me?”

 

“No,” Merlin sighed, “Not now. You would feel bad because of what happened. You could still banish me.”

 

Again, banishment. Merlin’s biggest fear.

 

“Even after what I did,” Arthur said slowly, “You still want to stay.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Arthur was about to continue, but Merlin cut him off.

 

“Please leave,” he said, “I need to think.”

 

Arthur wanted to protest, but wanted to respect Merlin’s wishes. He had done what he needed to do. Let Merlin know the truth. What he did with that was up to him. “Don’t forget the blueberries,” he said on his way out, closing the door behind him.

 

Since Merlin was now awake and able to talk, Arthur decided to go and get Gwaine. It hadn’t yet been a day, so the knight probably hadn’t reduced his lifespan considerably during the time he had been there, but Arthur should stop him before it ended up that way. He met Lancelot on the way or, rather, Lancelot had been patiently waiting for him not too far from the physician’s chambers.

 

“Do you remember when I first came to Camelot?” Lancelot began as he fell into step with Arthur, likely knowing that he was on his way to stop Gwaine’s drinking and not wanting to delay him, but still needed his attention.

 

“I do,” Arthur replied, not quite sure where Lancelot was going with this, although he was sure it was leading into some kind of lecture about honor and, quite specifically, Merlin.

 

“I broke the knight’s code,” Lancelot continued, “Even if the rule that commoners cannot become knights is unjust, the fact that I lied about my identity was dishonorable.”

 

“Which is why you left,” Arthur remembered. If he had had his way, Lancelot would never have been revoked of his knighthood back then. He had always been one of the best people Arthur knew.

 

“Yes, sire,” Lancelot said, Arthur almost taken aback by the formality as everyone else who knew of the Merlin situation had seemingly dropped them, “I needed to prove myself, become someone worth your trust and loyalty.”

 

“You already were,” Arthur insisted. He understood why Lancelot had done what he had done, but he didn’t quite agree with it. Lancelot should have stayed.

 

“I wasn’t. I lied to get what I wanted. I lied to you and to the king, the people with whom I should always be honest. Dishonesty should not be taken lightly,” Lancelot said firmly, “My actions proved that I was more concerned about myself than about Camelot. My loyalties were divided, and as with anyone who serves you, loyalty should, above all, be most important.”

 

“Of course,” Arthur agreed. This was about Merlin. Merlin who was loyal to a fault and didn’t deserve any of the things Arthur had done to him. This was Lancelot’s way of telling Arthur that he had messed up.

 

“When I came, I lied and I didn’t show my loyalty,” Lancelot repeated, like he was writing a perfect report, “No matter who they claim to be, do not trust people who haven’t shown you loyalty.” Arthur’s eyes widened. This wasn’t about Merlin. This was about Agravaine. Had something happened on the mission? Arthur was about to ask, but seeing that he was, Lancelot stopped him. “Trust the people who have.”

 

They went to the tavern together, finding Gwaine alone in a corner, looking like he had been there for a full week. The sun was beginning to set, so after Gwaine had paid Merlin a small visit, Arthur would sent him straight to his chambers. Going by Gwaine’s state, Arthur should probably also ban him from going to the tavern for the next month.

 

“This isn’t your fault,” Arthur told him on their way back, Lancelot supporting most of Gwaine’s weight as they moved, “It was my decision to use it.”

 

“I should have stopped you,” Gwaine merely replied, his lively tone of voice completely gone, “You always have the worst ideas.”

 

Before Arthur could open the door to the physician’s chambers, Elyan appeared, apparently just leaving. He looked at the three of them, figuring out their situation quickly and then looked to Arthur, and gestured to his cheek, “I see that you met Gwen too.”

 

Arthur instinctively moved his hand to his cheek. It was still sore. Sometimes he forgot how strong Guinevere was.

 

“You know,” Elyan said, acting more like himself that he had just that morning, “Even though Merlin insists that at least Gwaine and I shouldn’t be to blame, I don’t think he’ll be able to convince Gwen of the same. You should be careful Gwaine. She’ll probably come for you next.”

 

“We should just be thankful that Percival isn’t the one doing the hitting,” he tried to joke, but it still came out a little flat.

 

“Speaking of Percival,” Lancelot said, “Should we inform him and sir Leon?”

 

“Gaius said not to,” Elyan informed them, “They’ll want to visit and he doesn’t want Merlin to feel crowded. We can tell them in a couple of days.”

 

And with that, Arthur left Gwaine in Lancelot’s care, and returned to his own chambers, where he hadn’t been since he had poisoned Merlin. It felt weird to come back. The shattered glass was still lying where Merlin had dropped it, the liquid from the wine having spread and left stains on the floor. There was Arthur’s glass, still intact on the table, and in the closed cabinet, there would be an empty vial, hidden from anyone who might have entered. At the time, merely hidden from Merlin. Arthur found a dirty shirt and used it to clean up the broken glass, and had a nameless servant dispose of it together with Arthur’s untouched glass. 

 

Getting ready for bed, Arthur noticed a stack of documents on his desk and looked through them, not remembering having left anything out. They turned out to be reports from Lancelot and Agravaine. Arthur got into bed, not thinking about the fact that he had had nothing but a couple of blueberries to eat that day and read the reports. Lancelot’s was thorough and well documented. Arthur skimmed through the tedious tales of the harvest and skipped to the first sighting of magic.

 

Lancelot’s description matched what the woman had told them. A bright red cloud had been spotted covering the forest and it had lasted half the night. Under Agravaine’s orders, they had spend a few hours gathering up the citizens, making sure everyone was safe before investigating. They had split up in teams of three, Lancelot and Agravine leading one each. Lancelot’s party had found nothing that could explain the cause of the red smoke, and after half an hour in the forest it disappeared, quickly, as if it had never been there at all.  

 

Arthur compared the description to Agravaine’s report. It was practically the same. They had protected the citizens, gone to investigate, Agravaine had taken sirs Lucan and Kay with him, but they had found nothing as they had searched, and eventually the smoke had cleared. 

 

The following days, Lancelot had repeatedly asked for permission to search the forest, but Agravaine had denied him permission. This was not mentioned in Agravaine’s report.

 

During their journey towards Camelot, Lancelot had finally gotten permission to do a quick search, but their efforts had been cut short as sir Lucan had been injured, the circumstances unknown. This was the same in both reports. Arthur would have Kay write up a report of the incident. If Lancelot had ordered them to stick together, any knight of Camelot would respect the word of the knight assigned to lead them. And Arthur knew that Kay, at the very least, wasn’t a pure-blood. The young man would quite often spar against Percival during training, and got along well with Elyan, often riding close to him on missions. 

 

Lucan on the hand was a pure-blood. His father, a close friend of Uther’s, held many of the same beliefs as the king, and Lucan definitely shared many of those views. The first time he had been on a mission with a round table knight as his commander, they had gotten in a fight. Gwaine had promptly broken his nose, and Arthur had banned him from the tavern for three days as a punishment. As a friend who didn’t actually think Gwaine had been too out of line, he had paid for his next trip to the tavern. It had been an expensive gesture, but he was the crown prince. He could afford it.

 

The reports weren’t so different that there was anything inherently suspicious about it. Which made a lot of sense. If Agravaine was up to anything, he would hardly make it easy for Arthur to notice. For now, he could only be extra vigilant when it came to his uncle.

 

Arthur was woken the next morning by yet another new servant. He ate a plentiful breakfast to make up for the lack of food from the day before, and gathered all the fruits on a plate to bring with him to Gaius. He asked the servant to bring him blankets and a few pillows, which he then brought with him as well. Now that the harvest was over, it was getting colder and though material gifts were not exactly what Merlin wanted or needed, Arthur still felt that he deserved to be more comfortable.

 

“Oh great,” Merlin said as Arthur entered his room, “You’re back.” Though his voice was sarcastic, Arthur was glad to hear that it wasn’t as cold as yesterday.

 

“I thought you would like this,” Arthur said and set down the pillows and blankets by the foot of the bed and shoved the plate of fruit into Merlin’s hands.

 

“Thanks,” Merlin answered, his voice still slightly sarcastic, but reached for a raspberry immediately.

 

“Not scared that it’s poison anymore?” Arthur joked, and Merlin sent him a death glare.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Arthur said automatically, “I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want you to tell the truth. No lies, but you can choose not to answer.”

 

Merlin rolled his eyes, “And here I thought you were here for a friendly visit and not an interrogation.”

 

“You could consider it both,” Arthur suggested, and got no reply. He continued: “The scar. The one I saw on our way to Mercia. Where did you get it?”

 

“I already told you,” Merlin said as a matter of fact, “In the Darkling Woods.”

 

“Yes, but that doesn’t really tell me much, besides,” Arthur continued, “I’m beginning to think that’s a lie.”

 

“Congratulations,” Merlin said fakely and clapped his hands twice, “I lied about the woods. The truth is that I don’t know how I got it. Aren’t you happy that you know the truth now?”

 

“What do you mean you  _ don’t know _ ?” Arthur asked perplexed. Arthur had a story behind every single one of his scars. Knew exactly how and where he had gotten them, what lesson he had learned, how he had grown stronger.

 

“I mean exactly that. I get hurt often and at some point I don’t care to remember all of it. What’s the point?”

 

Arthur wanted to say that the point was to stop from getting hurt again, but he knew what was going on. Merlin didn’t get hurt because he was a warrior who was bested in a fight, Merlin got hurt to prevent Arthur from getting hurt. Merlin often said that Arthur wouldn’t last a day without him, and Arthur was beginning to see the truth behind those words. Ironic how Merlin so willingly spilled the truth when Arthur didn’t listen.

 

“What about the shoulder scar? The one Percival saw?”

 

“Serkets,” Merlin said simply. It was like Arthur had suspected, but that just begged the question:

 

“How did you survive?”

 

“An old friend helped me,” Merlin said crytically, and while Arthur knew that that meant he wasn’t going to elaborate, he tried his luck anyway.

 

“Who?”

 

“His name is Kilgharrah.”

 

“That sounds made up.”

 

“Well, it’s the truth,” Merlin said and popped another raspberry into his mouth.

 

“And what about Agravaine?” Arthur asked, returning to the topic that kept tearing them apart.

 

“I told you. I have no evidence,” Merlin said, seemingly unbothered by the topic. Perhaps the near death experience had made it harder to stir him up.

 

“Yet you still think he works for Morgana,” Arthur pointed out, done with the lies. If he wanted Merlin to be honest with him, the least he could do was to tell him everything too.

 

“How did you-”

 

“I overheard you and Agravaine. You accused him of working for her,” Arthur said simply. Eavesdropping could hardly be worse than accidentally poisoning Merlin in an attempt to force the truth out of him, so he didn’t mind telling him.

 

Merlin got a weird look on his face, like Arthur puzzled him. “If you knew, why did you keep asking?”

 

“I wanted to know why you think that. You aren’t one to think the worst of people, so he must have done something.”

 

“He hasn’t,” Merlin said, “That’s the problem. If he had done something, I could tell you. Just... I have a feeling.”

 

“That’s not enough-”

 

“Oh gee, thanks for letting me know that not having evidence is the problem here.”

 

“It’s not enough, but if you think I shouldn't trust him I won’t. Merlin, if it ever came down to a choice between you and my uncle, I’d be a fool to not choose you.”

 

Merlin looked him the eyes. His eyes were glossy and full of disbelief, but were slowly turning into something Arthur could only describe as wonder, “Do you really mean that?”

 

“I keep telling you. You’re the worst damn servant I’ve ever had, so why do you think I keep you around?”

 

“Because my jokes are funny,” Merlin smiled carefully. It was the first smile Arthur had seen since…

 

“They’re not that funny,” Arthur said, “I keep you because you’re my friend. The first one I ever had. A friend who gives me great advice, who would follow me into battle with no armor and a sword you can’t even use correctly, and who is loyal to a fault. I’ve faced bandits, enemy knights, magical beasts and an actual dragon, and you were right there beside me through all of it. What kind of friend would I be to cast that aside?”

 

Merlin’s smile faltered a little, and Arthur could only wonder why. That was the nicest thing Arthur had ever said to him, maybe even to anyone.

 

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Merlin said and looked down, his fingers fiddling with the blanket draped over his legs, “I don’t want to lie to you.”

 

“I know,” Arthur said, “But I can understand why you feel it’s necessary.”

 

“No I...” Merlin said, like he was working up the courage to say something, “I haven’t been completely honest about that either. There’s more. I was... scared.”

 

“Of banishment? Yes, you’ve mentioned that a couple of times.”

 

“No. I was scared of you. Of everyone. I’ve always been told not to tell anyone.”

 

That made Arthur stop and think. He had always been told not to tell? Always? Something wasn’t adding up, but Merlin seemed to still be working up his courage, and Arthur knew that Merlin was braver than anyone, so he didn’t speak. Merlin reached out for Arthur and took his hand. Arthur thought it was to keep himself grounded as Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

 

“You told me,” Merlin said slowly, “That you would choose me. That nothing I could do would make you want me dead.”

 

“Yes,” Arthur confirmed, bracing himself for absolutely everything Merlin could possibly say now. That Merlin had forced Morgana to turn evil. That Merlin had tried to kill him once. That Merlin was a secret spy sent by an enemy kingdom. That Merlin had released the great dragon. The Merlin had somehow been the reason for his mother’s death. Arthur prepared himself for everything, knowing that something Merlin would keep locked away, hidden and refusing to share even if it could cost him his life, would have to be something that would change Arthur’s entire worldview.

 

“Everything I do,” Merlin continued, his voice shaking ever so slightly, “I do for you Arthur. You know that right?”

 

“Yes,” Arthur said again, and Merlin squeezed his hand before letting go again.

 

“Please. Please don’t think differently of me.”

 

Arthur looked down at the hand Merlin had let go of, feeling a weight that hadn’t been there before. Gold and red met his eyes, as he looked at the rose in his hand that had definitely appeared out of thin air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can finally remove the 'eventually' from my tags :)


	10. My Magic is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic reveal and the conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not keeping my word on when I would update. I actually finished writing the chapter a couple of days after the last update, but I wasn't quite satisfied and ending up rewriting a lot and adding a couple of scenes, so I hope the fact that the chapter is super long makes up for the wait.
> 
> Regardless, this is the final chapter and I hope you've enjoyed it so far.

The revelation that Merlin had magic was nothing short of a huge relief. It was the feeling of everything falling into place, the last piece of the puzzle finally revealing the bigger picture which Arthur had been so incredibly blind to before, but now could not understand how he had never noticed. Of course, Merlin had magic. It was the only thing that made sense in this crazy reality Arthur lived in. And Arthur didn’t think of all the times in his life where Merlin must have used magic to miraculously save the day, no, Arthur thought of how he had finally figured Merlin out. He recalled the way Merlin’s eyes lost the bright spark while looking at the pyre, the desperate regret in his voice when he spoke of Morgana, the careful approach he had when he spoke of magic and Will - and Arthur knew immediately that it was never Will who had magic. But most of all, Arthur remembered Merlin’s voice. He remembered the voice of a friend, who so desperately didn’t want Arthur to take the life of his own father, even if it meant incriminating himself and all who were like him, and Arthur suddenly understood that it was not just Arthur before everything. It was Arthur at the cost of everything.

 

And like with the wrist, the scars, all of Merlin’s sacrifices, Arthur understood why Merlin had not wanted to tell him. There was fear, yes. Fear of losing their friendship and having it become the prize to pay for the lies and not because Merlin was afraid of losing him, no. It was because Arthur knew, better than he knew anything, that Merlin would walk through the fires of hell rather than leave Arthur’s side. And Arthur couldn’t even fathom how it must feel to have the person you have dedicated your entire life to not wanting you around. Because from the moment the poison had met Merlin’s lips, he had thought that Arthur had cast him aside, and despite that, despite thinking that Arthur wanted him dead or worse, Merlin must still have urged Lancelot to warn Arthur about Agravaine, because nothing could sway Merlin’s loyalty and the faith he had in Arthur. Because Arthur could take a knife to his servant’s heart and Merlin would smile and tell him to stay safe.

 

Arthur understood that Merlin didn’t want to tell him as long as Uther was king, not wanting Arthur to be in a position where he would inevitably choose his sorcerer servant over his father, the king - although Merlin surely didn’t know that was the choice Arthur would make. He understood that on top of Morgana’s - and eventually - Agravaine’s betrayal, Merlin didn’t want to burden him with more loved ones who were hiding their true self from him.

 

Arthur understood all that as he looked at the rose in his hand, and finally looked up at his servant, his friend who was holding his breath, fear in his eyes as he had just revealed his deepest secret to the person he had been told to be cautious of. And Arthur smiled. There was nothing to fear, not from him. He would never let Merlin fear him. Never again. 

 

“Was that so hard?” Arthur asked teasingly and Merlin relaxed a little, letting out the breath he had been holding, but never once breaking eye contact. 

 

“Yes,” he replied honestly, “More than you can imagine.”

 

And Merlin was right about that. Arthur couldn’t imagine or even guess how Merlin had been feeling, or was currently feeling. To live with a secret so big, to know revealing it would change everything, and not knowing if it would be for better or for worse. 

 

“Aren’t you angry?” Merlin asked, not fearfully, merely curious, and Arthur couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

 

“Do you want me to be?”

 

“Of course not,” Merlin said softly, the usual bite when he told Arthur off not present in his voice, “I just thought you would have more of a reaction...”

 

“I can understand that,” Arthur said, “I might have been angry with you if our circumstances had been different, but that has nothing to do with the magic.”

 

“Because I lied to you,” Merlin stated and Arthur nodded.

 

“Because you lied to me,” he confirmed, “But drugging you with a truth serum turned poison was pretty bad as well.”

 

“Let’s call it even then,” Merlin offered with a soft smile on his face. Arthur found himself smiling as well.

 

“That seems fair.”

 

Silence fell over the small room as they let their situation sick in. Merlin, perhaps coming to terms with how easily Arthur had accepted his magic, and Arthur, turning his attentions back to the flower in his hand, wondering how strong Merlin was. The flower was real and bright, dyed in the Pendragon colors, as if to show where his heart and loyalty lay. It was an impressive sight, but Arthur had no way of knowing if this display was a difficult act or mere child’s play.

 

As the silent stretched on, Arthur found that what he really wanted to do was ask Merlin more questions. Questions about his magic and how he had used it, but now wasn’t the time. Merlin had poured his soul out by revealing his magic to him, and Arthur didn’t want to follow that up by another interrogation, not when it felt like he was finally getting Merlin back, now that he knew he hadn’t lost the greatest friend he had ever had. 

 

“You should rest,” Arthur said slowly as he got up from his spot on the floor, “I’ll be back.”

 

“Arthur,” Merlin called as the prince moved to leave and Arthur turned to look at him, “Thank you.”

 

“For what?” He asked puzzled, and Merlin answered him with sincerity and gratefulness so thick in voice, Arthur could almost cry.

 

“For not casting me aside.”

 

Arthur wanted to smile, but instead, an apology escaped his lips: “I’m sorry I made you think I ever would.”

 

As Arthur closed the door to Merlin’s room, he found Gaius sitting by sir Lucan’s bed, tending to the now awakened knight, but looking up as the prince emerged from his ward’s room.

 

“You look happy,” Gaius remarked, “Merlin always forgives you too quickly.”

 

“He does,” Arthur agreed. He wasn’t quite sure if he deserved Merlin’s forgiveness, but he would take it and treasure it. 

 

“Could I have a moment with sir Lucan?” Arthur requested, finally letting go of his conversation with Merlin and beginning to take action regarding the quite urgent matter at hand, namely his uncle.

 

“Of course sire,” Gaius said, “I’ll see to Merlin in the meantime.”

 

Arthur sat down on the small stool next to Lucan’s bed as Gaius disappeared into his ward’s room, and and looked at the knight before him. Sir Lucan was a couple of years younger than Arthur, around Merlin’s age, and had yet to experience some of the harsher realities of being a knight. His knighting had only been a few months ago, and Arthur felt that he looked more like a scared child than a courageous knight as Arthur began interrogating him.

 

“Do you know who injured you?” Arthur asked, trying to sound caring but authoritative at the same time. 

 

Lucan nodded: “I do, sire,” he said, horrified.

 

“Can you describe them to me?”

 

“I have a name, sire,” sir Lucan said slowly, “But I fear you would not believe me.”

 

“Tell me,”  Arthur urged. 

 

“The one who attacked me was sir Kay, sire, I am sure of it.”

 

The information sank in surprisingly quickly. Perhaps Arthur was getting too used to hearing the unexpected. Between Agravaine working for Morgana, who wanted Merlin dead and sent assassins after his servant, who was a secret sorcerer, well, Arthur was getting difficult to surprise.

 

“Walk me through the day,” Arthur requested, “Tell me everything you remember.”

 

“We left for Camelot in the morning, sire,” Lucan began, “However, sir Lancelot wanted to investigate the magic that had been sighted in the forest of Ascetir in the first week of our arrival. We knew we weren’t likely to find anything after such a long time, so as to cover more ground, we thought we could safely split up. Sir Lancelot paired me with Sir Kay and together we searched through the forest for any sign on magic.

 

“As we searched through the forest, we got to talking about the ban. Sir Kay said that he didn’t think the law was fair. That the king didn’t give suspected sorcerers fair trials, and that magic itself shouldn’t be the crime, only the evil done with it. Of course, sire, I reminded him of how magic corrupts, reminded him of how it had corrupted our good lady Morgana, and how the king had lost his daughter to its evil. 

 

“And he looked at me, sire,” Lucan said with a tremble in his voice, “He looked at me with evil in his eyes as he thrust his sword at me. I barely dodged a fatal blow, but I could not escape him entirely. The next thing I remember is waking up here in Camelot.”

 

“I see,” Arthur mumbled to himself as Lucan finished his story, “Thank you for your honesty,” Arthur said more clearly, “Now rest up.”

 

“Yes, sire.”

 

Arthur only waited in the physician’s chambers long enough to bid Gaius goodbye and left to find sir Kay. Knights attacking other knights with intent to kill was a rare sight, and for it to happen outside a publicly issued challenge was even rarer. It went against the knight’s code and Arthur knew Kay to be an honorable man. He had served as a knight for only a year’s time, being knighted only a week after they had taken Camelot back from Morgana. But Arthur had known him for longer. Kay had been in training for quite some time, and before he had trained as a knight, he had been a page to sir Leon. He was honorable, honest and friendly, not the type to attack fellow knights over a disagreement, no matter how wrong he thought they were.

 

Arthur found Kay at the training grounds practicing with a dummy. A squire was stood by the makeshift armory and as Arthur came to stand by him, he asked if Arthur wished to wear armor, thinking the prince had come down for practice. Arthur considered it only for a while, before he let the squire help him into some light armor and gave him a dulled sword. When Arthur was ready, he walked up to Kay who was still striking the dummy.

 

“Want to practice with me?” Arthur asked in a friendly manner, and Kay spun around, surprised to hear the prince request such a thing of him. Lately, Arthur had only been sparring with his knight of the round table as they had quickly become the only people who could give him a challenge.

 

“It would be an honor, sire,” Kay said with a little less confidence than he normally spoke with, but Arthur didn’t comment on it as he lead them to a spot where they could move more freely.

 

Arthur waited for Kay to make the first move, and was surprised by the lack of power coming from the young knight. As Arthur pushed back, Kay was quickly off balance and was forced to take a step back. Arthur could tell that there was something on his mind that distracted him, and he also had a good guess to what it was.

 

“What’s on you mind?” Arthur asked as he stopped attacking. Kay sighed heavily before he answered.

 

“I can’t help but feel that sir Lucan got hurt because of me. We were supposed to have each other’s backs, but, I don’t know what happened, one minute we were talking and the next… he was on the ground. I had my sword drawn, and I… What if I did it?” Kay was rambling and it only confirmed what Arthur had been suspecting. Especially as sir Kay so quickly incriminated himself.

 

“You don’t remember anything?”

 

“No, my lord. Gaius said it could have been the trauma, but my sword… there was blood on it-”

 

“Did you tell Gaius this? That you thought you did it?”

 

“No, my lord, I was too frightened. I only told him I had no memories of the event.”

 

“Thank you for your honesty,” Arthur smiled, trying to reassure Kay that he was in no trouble, “Don’t tell anyone what we spoke of, and I will come back to you when we have everything figured out.”

 

Once out of the armor, Arthur made his way to his own chambers, and was unpleasantly to surprised to not find a plate of food on his table, but instead Agravaine.

 

“Uncle,” Arthur greeted, though the word felt awfully twisted as he addressed the man before him in a familiar way, “What brings you here?”

 

“Can’t I simply drop by for a visit?” Agravaine joked lightly, “I haven’t seen you since my return yesterday, and it is a busy time. I hear that you have been spending an awful lot of time at the physician’s quarters.”

 

“The harvest is all but concluded, so my duties are lighter,” Arthur reminded him, “There was an accident a couple of days ago and Merlin hit his head pretty hard. I fear that the incident was my fault so I’ve been making sure that he is comfortable while recovering.” With all the liars around him, it seemed to never occur to anyone that Arthur could lie pretty smoothly as well. 

 

“I am sure he will make a full recovery, sire,” Agravaine smiled, and Arthur had never before wanted to punch him, but that seemed to be the only emotion he was currently feeling. If it could even be called an emotion. “But you do have some duties to attend,” Agravaine continued, “With the end of the harvest comes Samhain’s Eve. I believe it would be wise to begin preparations now, while there is less on your plate. These celebrations are one of our longest standing traditions after all.”

 

“Of course, uncle,” Arthur agreed. He had completely forgotten about the annual feast held to honor one’s ancestors, and added a mental note to see if any if the preparations had begun or if he needed to do something about it. If anything, organizing a feast was easy work and it would give him a good excuse to skip some of his other duties like training the knights or whatever else he was supposed to do. 

 

Agravaine then left and Arthur wondered what he had really wanted. An update on Merlin perhaps? Even before the whole traitor thing, the two of them had been on unfriendly terms, but knowing that Morgana, with Agravaine’s help, was willing to send assassins after his poor servant, Arthur needed to be vigilant. He could not allow Agravaine too many freedoms. 

 

Arthur spent the rest of his day in his chambers, only interrupted when a servant came by with food and to pick up his laundry. Arthur had much to consider. Agravaine was by far the most important subject, but there was sir Kay’s situation as well. There was no doubt in Arthur’s mind that the young knight had not been acting of his own accord, but the question remained: was he still enchanted or was it only the magic of the forest which influences him? Arthur’s safest bet was to ask Gaius or Merlin, but they had much on their plate, so for now Arthur merely kept an eye on him. He had a servant go to Elyan and ask him to spend the day with Kay, to train with him while keeping an eye on him - although the last part was not explicitly stated he hoped Elyan understood it nonetheless.

 

And then there was Merlin. The only problem Arthur had with the magic was that it quite possibly explained his servant’s extreme recklessness. Regardless of how strong or weak his magic was, he had a hidden ace up his sleeve and the likelihood that Merlin relied on his magic to not die whenever he did something behind Arthur’s back was incredibly high. And it clearly didn’t work as well as Merlin likely wanted it to, considering all the damn times he had apparently been close to death.

 

The magic also explained the quickly healing scars. Or at least Arthur assumed that it did. As someone who studied under Gaius and possessed magic, which Gaius most likely knew of if Arthur was completely honest with himself, there was every chance in the world that Merlin would know healing spells. Arthur could even count a couple of times where Merlin must have healed him, and then claimed to have not known how he had gotten better or simply told him that the injury hadn’t been as bad as he had first thought.

 

Merlin owed him a couple of explanations, but Arthur didn’t want to demand that Merlin told him everything right away. There were stories to be told and clarifications to be made, and if they could talk about those things like friends every once in a while, then Arthur would prefer that. At this point, he was sure that Merlin would tell him everything he needed to know without Arthur having to push for it, so he wouldn’t ask. He would wait patiently. 

 

Arthur ended up falling asleep at his desk and woke up with his body slightly sore and a piece of paper stuck to his face with a bit of his own drool. He could only be thankful that he had woken up by himself so that no one had to see him in that state. 

 

Arthur got up, managed a change of shirts and found himself in the kitchens, stealing a plate of food for himself and a bowl of fruit for Merlin. It was still early, and with Merlin’s tendency to oversleep, he probably wasn’t awake yet, but that was okay. Arthur just needed to make sure he was okay. Until Merlin was fully recovered from the poisoning, Arthur would probably worry endlessly about him and what Agravaine might or might not do to him. 

 

Gaius wasn’t there when Arthur arrived, so Arthur merely let himself in. Sir Lucan seemed to have been moved to his own quarters, so it was incredibly quiet as Arthur listed up to Merlin’s room.

 

Merlin was, as expected, still asleep, and Arthur didn’t want to disturb him, so he merely sat down the bowl of fruit by the bedside table, and sat himself down against the wall, making good of his time by eating his breakfast. It was then that Arthur noticed the loose floorboard under Merlin’s bed, and curiosity got the better of him. He reached to remove the flooring which revealed a small hole in which Merlin kept two books - no doubt books the king deemed illegal to possess.

 

The big leatherbound book unsurprisingly grabbed Arthur’s attention first. It was apparent from the cover alone that it was a book of magic, and Arthur flipped through the pages of it, not knowing enough to understand, but seeing just enough to get an idea of its contents. What really caught Arthur’s attention were the small pieces of parchment which sometimes appeared between the pages of the book. Recognizing Merlin’s handwriting, Arthur read those, curious as to what Merlin was taking notes about. Most of them turned out to be commentary on the contents of the book. If a spell required herbs or other items, Merlin had noted where to obtain them and sometimes how long it would take to get there. If a spell was very eye-catching when performed, Merlin had noted what the effects would be in order to conceal himself the best. However, on a few occasions, Merlin seemed to have corrected spells and their effects. One page described a spell which would heal wounds, but Merlin had noted that the spell only sped up a person’s own recovery by using their energy, and that excessive use could harm and possibly even kill the victim. Merlin had even been cheeky enough to note that he should use it on Arthur when the prince was unwilling to cooperate as the spell would make him tired and sluggish.

 

Flipping through the book and reading Merlin’s notes slowly told Arthur that Merlin was most likely very skilled when it came to magic. Merlin had always been quite clever and loved to learn, and it only made sense to Arthur that he would put those skills to good use when it came to magic. Arthur found that he couldn’t wait for Merlin to tell him more, which was a strange thought seeing as his opinion on magic only a year ago had been much different. But Arthur was a changed man, and the best way to get over his own prejudices was to keep learning. 

 

Arthur picked up the second book. It was smaller in size and looked more like a journal than a book of magic. The first page held the title in Merlin’s handwriting:  _ Proof that I am not as bad at healing as previously believed, it is just Arthur who is difficult to heal.  _ Arthur chuckled silently at the title, and flipped through its contents. From what Arthur could gather, the book contained healing spells - healing spells which Merlin had created - and they were all for Arthur. The prince didn’t know why Merlin had deemed him a special case since there seemed to have been plenty of healing spells with the exact same effect in the other book, but the notebook still filled his heart with warmth. The book contained a complete record of all the wounds and illnesses, which Arthur had suffered since Merlin had come to Camelot. Many of them, Merlin hadn’t even attempted to use magic to heal as they were only small wounds or sometimes a head cold, but the ones where Merlin had used magic, he had noted what spells he had used and whether or not they had worked. 

 

“Are you reading my magic books?” Merlin’s voice questioned and Arthur looked to the bed beside him, finding Merlin still snuggled under the covers, head resting on the pillow but looking at him with a curious glint in his eyes.

 

“You are smarter than I give you credit for,” Arthur smiled and Merlin shifted a little on the bed, not getting up, only moving his arms to rest his head on them as he kept on studying Arthur.

 

“Are you sure you’re feeling well, my lord,” Merlin smiled, addressing Arthur with his title in the teasing manner which he had so missed, “You seem to be talking nonsense.”

 

Arthur could only roll his eyes. This was why he didn’t compliment Merlin more often. It always ended up backfiring.

 

“Why am I difficult to heal?” Arthur asked to change the subject, and was surprised to see Merlin’s smile falter. Arthur wasn’t really sure how that had been a bad thing to ask, and was about to tell Merlin that he didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to, but didn’t get the chance.

 

“I can’t be sure, but I suspect it’s because you were born of magic.”

 

Arthur blinked once, then twice, letting the piece of information sink in, nodding as he understood what Merlin meant.

 

“Morgause didn’t lie when she told me about the circumstances of my birth, did she?”

 

Merlin sighed and shook his head slightly, “She used the information to manipulate you, but it was the truth nonetheless. I had Gaius confirm it.”

 

“I see,” Arthur said and slumped against the wall. Back when he had first learned of the circumstances of his mother’s death, he had been angry with his father, thinking that the only way to right his wrong had been to take his life. But as Arthur had matured, and slowly learned on his own of his father’s wrongdoings and shortcomings, he knew that killing him wasn’t the answer.

 

“What will you do?” Merlin asked, almost as if he could read Arthur’s thoughts. 

 

“I don’t know,” Arthur said, knowing that after a night’s sleep, he would be able to think about the whole situation differently, “Probably nothing.”

 

A small smile returned to Merlin’s face. “I’m proud of you,” he said, almost sleepily. Arthur might not compliment Merlin a lot, but that went both ways. It was rare for Merlin to praise Arthur, especially when the prince was already in a good mood. Arthur could only imagine that Merlin had said what he had because he hadn’t quite woken up yet.

 

Arthur forced himself back to reality. He had intended to talk to Merlin about sir Kay, and while it was tempting to stay in Merlin’s small room and talk about magic all day, this was a more pressing matter.

 

“Can you tell if someone is enchanted?” Arthur asked, and Merlin looked confused for a second.

 

“Sometimes. Why?”

 

Arthur explained the situation to Merlin, as the servant likely didn’t know much beyond some potential magic having been sighted. Merlin listened intently, slowly waking up and eventually sitting up fully, eating a bit of the fruit Arthur had brought with him.

 

“I see,” Merlin said when Arthur was done explaining and presenting his suspicions, “It definitely doesn’t sound like something Kay would do. It won’t be hard for me to check if you just bring him to me.”

 

Arthur smiled. When had their conversations last been this easy? When was the last time Arthur had not once worried about if what Merlin said was true or if he was holding something back+ When was the last time Merlin hadn’t worried about saying too much or what Arthur’s reaction would be when he learned of something new? 

 

“Why did you tell me?” Arthur asked curiously. He knew why Merlin hadn’t told him before, but given recent events, given that Arthur was not yet king and was still bound by the laws of his father, logically, Merlin should probably have held his tongue.

 

“I always wanted to,” Merlin confessed, “At least, when I started considering you a friend,” he laughed a bit to himself, no doubt recalling those early days of service where they could barely stand each other, “But I was always told that my secret was something to be guarded with my life. I live in the heart of Camelot and serve the king’s only heir. It was dangerous enough just with that, but still, I wanted to tell you.”

 

“But why now?”

 

“I guess I felt bad,” Merlin confessed, “I knew you worried about me, and I wanted to ease your mind. I tried when I told you about Nimueh, but it might have only made the situation worse. And when you started asking me about magic and you said that you were starting to see it differently, I got so happy,” Merlin’s smile got a little brighter before it faltered again, “But I was scared. I knew the lies would end up hurting you more than the magic, and with Agravaine around, being so close to you, I felt like I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk not being here to protect you.”

 

“You were scared I would chose my uncle over you?” Arthur confirmed, and Merlin nodded. 

 

“I guess that you almost killing me ended up pushing me to do it,” Merlin laughed and Arthur shook his head.

 

“Don’t speak of that as if it was a good thing. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did.”

 

“That’s okay,” Merlin smiled, “I forgive you.”

 

The following moment of silence was violently interrupted by Lancelot slamming the door open, effectively startling the both of them, and informing with a panic in his voice: “There was an attempt on the king’s life.”

 

Arthur was quickly on his feet ready to run to his father’s side, but hesitated and looked back at Merlin. They hadn’t talked about everything yet. He didn’t want to leave things unfinished, but…

 

“Go, Arthur,” Merlin urged, “We’ll talk later.”

 

Arthur nodded curtly and moved past Lancelot, but stopped one last time, putting his hands on the knight’s shoulders and looking him in the eyes: “Look after him,” he ordered, Lancelot barely uttering ‘yes’ before Arthur was out of the door, making his way to his father’s chambers.

 

A million thoughts ran through Arthur’s mind as he ran through the castle. It was Agravaine who was behind this. It must have been. He had finally showed his true nature and made his move. Arthur should have listened to Merlin sooner. Agravaine had sent an assassin to kill the king. Arthur should have listened sooner. Agravaine had betrayed them. He should have listened. 

 

Entering the king’s chambers, Arthur was met with quite the scene: There were guards at the door, as there should be, and in the bed, his father, barely conscious and seemingly trying to communicate something to Agravaine who was stood by the bed looking sympathetic. Beside him, Gaius, dressing the wound to the king’s center, looking regretful as he knew he could only prolong the king’s life long enough for him to say his goodbyes. In a corner, Percival, holding down sir Kay, who looked close to tears, streaks of blood covering his white tunic and his hands. Between Kay and the bed, Leon, hand on his sword, looking down at the restrained knight, ready to strike him down without a single moment’s hesitation should he try something. 

 

“Arthur!” he heard Agravaine call to him and Arthur moved to his father’s bedside, standing opposite the physician and meeting his eyes.

 

“How is he?” Arthur asked concerned, paying no attention to the man who had called his name, as Gaius looked up with him in sorrow in his eyes.

 

“There is only so much I can do,” he informed, “One day is all I can give you.”

 

“Thank you, Gaius,” Arthur said, knowing the old physician would have done all he could have for the king.

 

There was movement on the bed and Arthur looked immediately to his father, taking his hand as he met his father’s gaze.

 

“Arthur...” he said weakly, and on the other side of the bed, Agravaine moved and ordered everyone to leave the room. As he made no move to leave himself, Arthur bid Gaius to stay with them, wanting someone he could trust in the room with them. 

 

“Arthur,” his father repeated once his chambers hosted only the four of them, “I’m sorry,” he breathed, “I told you, I wouldn’t want for you to become king like this.”

 

Arthur wanted to say something but the lump in his throat made it hard for him to talk. He was sure he was crying. 

 

“You are ready Arthur, I know you are. Always remember, I am proud of you and I love you. I love you so very much.” There were tears in his father’s eyes as he spoke.

 

“I love you too, father,” Arthur croaked out through the tears and watched as his father’s eyes slowly closed, squeezing his hand to let him know that he was still there. 

 

“This may be the last time he wakes,” Gaius said slowly, “Don’t leave anything unsaid.”

 

Arthur nodded and kissed his father’s forehead. There was nothing else he wanted to say, so he stayed in silence, his company never breaking it.

 

It was dark outside when Arthur left his father’s chambers, but he could not yet rest. There was still much to be done. As he moved towards his chambers, his tears finally drying, he sent some guards to fetch his knights of the round table and bring them to his chambers. 

 

Almost to his chambers, Arthur passed a window looking over the courtyard and saw it filled with Camelot’s citizens, candles in their hands to show their grief for the king and wish him a painless journey to the other world. It would have been a beautiful sight if it wasn’t for the sorrow that filled Arthur’s soul and he quickly tore his eyes away from it and walked away.

 

“Sire,” was the concerned word of his servant when he opened the door to his chambers. Merlin still looked slightly like death, clearly not having eaten much the last few days and his skin paler than usual, but Arthur was happy to see him nonetheless.

 

“You should be resting,” he still remarked, closing the door behind him, and Merlin took a step closer to him, making the distance between only an arm’s reach.

 

“I didn’t want you to feel alone,” Merlin said softly and Arthur took a step closer and let Merlin hug him, comfort him through his grief. Merlin’s presence was grounding and familiar, and Arthur quickly found himself gripping the back of his servant’s shirt to keep him close.

 

“Thank you,” Arthur whispered into Merlin’s neck. He got no reply and they let the silence fill the room until Merlin hesitantly spoke.

 

“Do you...” he said slowly, almost frightened, but not quite so, “Do you want me to save him?”

 

Arthur’s body froze. Nevermind that it was something Merlin could do, Merlin had suggested it, asking Arthur if he should save the king that burned sorcerers at the stake. And God knew that no child wanted to lose a parent they loved, no child wanted to let their parent die when they could have saved them, but there was only one right answer.

 

Arthur let go of Merlin, took him by the shoulders and put enough distance between them to look him in the eyes, “No,” he said, “I don’t want you to.”

 

Merlin’s eyes widened slightly, “Are you sure?”

 

“I am.”

 

There was a cough, and Arthur and Merlin both turned their eyes to Percival standing by the door. Arthur had almost forgotten about that.

 

“What’s this?” Merlin asked, “I didn’t know we were expecting company,” he teased and Arthur found himself smiling at his servant’s antics. 

 

“You’re not my only friend, you know,” Arthur said and Merlin looked dramatically offended before he fetched six goblets from the cupboard and placed them on the table. The table which used to be the usual rectangular shape, but had somehow turned circular in the time Arthur had been gone. As Merlin moved to the wine cupboard, Arthur got close to him and whispered out of Percival’s earshot: “Did you do that?” He gestured to the table vaguely.

 

“I might have,” Merlin smiled and was quickly gone, pouring the wine in the goblets. 

 

“You’re not staying?” Arthur asked, as he realized that they were a goblet short and Merlin shook his head.

 

“I just needed to make sure you were okay. I’m technically not allowed to leave my bed yet.”

 

Arthur sighed a little. Trust Merlin to follow orders, when Arthur didn’t expect him to. He could rely on Lancelot to speak on Merlin’s behalf, but he would have preferred his servant here, if he could have him. But Merlin did need to rest. Arthur would rather have him close by when the preparations for his coronation inevitably began. 

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Arthur asked as Merlin moved to leave and his servant smiled reassuringly at him.

 

“Of course, sire.”

 

As Merlin left, Leon entered and looked like he was about to question Merlin leaving, but said nothing as he took a seat at table to Arthur’s left side. The three remaining knights followed soon after, Lancelot arriving last and taking a seat between Percival and the empty chair to Arthur’s right.

 

“It’s been a while since we’ve all been together,” Gwaine remarked tiredly and Elyan made a face that said he didn’t quite agree.

 

“I feel like we’re missing some,” he muttered and all eyes looked to the empty chair at Arthur’s side for a moment, before Leon spoke up.

 

“Is this where you tell us what happened to Merlin?” He questioned, not quite as politely as usual, “I hadn’t seen him for a couple of days and just now he looked like he had been dying.”

 

The four knights in the know all looked at each other, while Leon and Percival realized that they had somehow been left out of something. Arthur took a deep breath and told them what had happened.

 

“You poisoned him?” Leon roared outrageously, while Percival merely looked perplexed.

 

“Not intentionally,” Arthur explained, “He’s fine now… mostly.”

 

“Mostly?” Percival raised an eyebrow, and Arthur sighed again.

 

“Well, you saw him. He’s technically still on bedrest.”

 

“Did you know they were planning on doing this?” Percival asked Lancelot, ready to be very disappointed in his friend, but Lancelot shook his head.

 

“Not at all. Arthur told me what had happened when I came back to Camelot.”

 

“Why only Lancelot?” Leon asked Arthur, still demanding answers. 

 

“Merlin refused to talk to anyone else when he first woke up, so I had to,” Arthur clarified, but they had to get off this topic, “Look, I am sure you are plenty mad at me, and with good reason, but we have something more important to discuss.”

 

“Your coronation?” Gwaine scoffed, and Arthur had to resist rolling his eyes.

 

“No,” Arthur declined firmly, “Agravaine.”

 

“You talked to Merlin?” Lancelot asked, now making the other four feeling like they were out of the loop.

 

“A little,” Arthur confirmed. He had planned to talk more about this topic this morning, but they had never quite gotten that far, “But unless someone else can bring it, we have no proof, no evidence. And although I don’t doubt that Merlin is right, we need something tangible to act on.”

 

“Not everyday you hear the princess say that Merlin is right,” Gwaine mused and Arthur decided to just ignore him.

 

“Other than Agravaine, we need to figure out what to do with sir Kay.”

 

“Sir Kay?” Leon questioned with that same tone he had been speaking with all evening. He was surely thinking that Arthur had gone mad, “You want to discuss what to do with the person who is responsible for the king’s death?”

 

“Yes, because I don’t think he is the one responsible,” Arthur explained and gained a lot of questioning stares.

 

“Arthur,” Percival spoke, “There were witnesses. Even the king himself confirmed it when Gaius asked him.”

 

“Yes, but think about it,” Arthur pressed on, “Why would he do it? Sir Kay is honorable knight, you all know that. And I’ve talked to both him and Sir Lucan. Both of them more or less confirmed that sir Kay was the one to injure Lucan on your mission, but Kay has no memories of it. And Lucan described Kay as to acting differently. What if he isn’t acting of his own free will?”

 

“So you’re suggesting magic?” Lancelot confirmed and Arthur nodded.

 

“I think the magic you saw, the red smoke in the forest of Ascetir, might have something to do with it, although that is only a speculation. In any case, until we can be certain of sir Kay’s guilt, I do not want to execute him.”

 

“But how do we prevent that?” Leon asked sceptically. It really was weird to have Leon more or less disagree with every single choice he was making, “Agravaine has already declared that he will be executed in the morning. He is acting on the king’s orders.”

 

“Well that’s the easy part,” Arthur smiled mischievously, “We break him out.”

 

“Of course!” Gwaine sang, “Just another one of the knight’s duties.”

 

“Hold up,” Elyan interrupted, “You think Agravaine did this? He doesn’t really feel like the sorcerer type.”

 

“Agravaine is only a part of it. This likely all leads back to Morgana,” Arthur explained, and Elyan rolled his eyes dramatically.

 

“Yes, another logical conclusion to draw.”

 

The fact that the majority of the knights didn’t really take Arthur’s word was fair enough. Although the lack of faith was a little disheartening, he was throwing out accusations without any real facts and he had also just proven himself dumb enough to accidentally poisoning Merlin. Arthur decided to turn to a person he knew the rest of them would trust.

 

“Lancelot,” he said, bringing everyone’s attention to the noble knight, “Anything to share?”

 

“It should be Merlin tell you this, since he noticed it first,” Lancelot began, “But we have been suspecting Agravaine of disloyalty for quite some time now.”

 

“Thanks for letting us in on that, Lance,” Gwaine said sarcastically. He really had done nothing but make various rude comments all night and Arthur could imagine that he had either been denied sleep or mead to attend this somewhat secret meeting.

 

“I swore that I would not tell anyone until we had evidence,” Lancelot argued, “Merlin asked me to keep an eye on Agravaine and although I never caught him in the act, he shows signs of suspicion. The mere fact that he wouldn’t allow us to investigate the magic earlier should tell us to at least be wary of him.”

 

“But suspicions and evidence are not the same thing,” Elyan reminded them, no doubt thinking of the way his father had died, and Arthur nodded.

 

“Yes, without evidence, we can do nothing, so that is what we will do.”

 

“Sire?” Leon questioned, “We can at least investigate.”

 

“No,” Arthur said firmly, “If we investigate, then he will surely notice. For now, we shall act as if he does work for Morgana. We take notice of what he does and what he says, and then act accordingly. We can use him to feed false intel to Morgana.”

 

“And sir Kay?” Percival asked, “What do we do about him.”

 

Arthur smiled: “Here’s the plan.”

 

Breaking sir Kay out the dungeons was even easier than breaking out the sorcerer, because this time Arthur wasn’t alone. The most difficult part of the plan was getting Kay to Merlin before they helped him get out of the kingdom entirely. Arthur decided to explain his choice away by saying that keeping him in the castle for a short while after they broke him out would give them time, if only they let the search party astray by making them think he had already fled.

 

Arthur had Gwaine and Percival glued to Agravaine’s side, as Agravaine sent out search parties for the escaped prisoner, keeping an eye on him and feeding him false information to lead them all astray. Leon and Elyan would be the ones escorting Kay out of Camelot, while Lancelot and Arthur broke him out and hid him at Gaius’ for a short while.

 

“When I said ‘bring him to me’, I didn’t mean ‘send the whole castle into a panic’,” Merlin said as Arthur and Lancelot barged in, the warning bell ringing endlessly to alert that the prisoner had escaped, “Also,” Merlin continued, pulling the blanket around him a little closer as he had no doubt been trying to sleep before the whole castle had gotten so incredibly loud, “Before this gets really awkward and you start lying to each other, you both know about my magic.”

 

The casualness with which Merlin spoke made the statement seem like much less than it was, so it took two seconds for Arthur to actually get it.

 

“You told Lancelot before me?” He almost yelled, not needing to draw attention to this part of the castle. Sir Kay was being held firmly by Lancelot, just in case the information would startle him. The knight only seemed mildly perplexed by the statement, although Arthur thought perhaps the knight was still in shock from what happened earlier in the day.

 

“So me having magic is not an issue, but Lancelot knowing is?” Merlin raised an eyebrow, but Arthur just kept glaring at him, needing an explanation, “I didn’t actually tell him. Unlike the rest of you, he was just smart enough to figure it out by himself.”

 

“Fine,” Arthur said, also slightly surprised that this was the part he was upset about, “Just, see what you can do, we don’t have much time.”

 

As Arthur moved out of Merlin’s way, he looked at Lancelot, who seemed slightly surprised as well. It was probably due to Arthur knowing, as Lancelot would have no doubt learned why Merlin had never told him or anyone else. But it explained why Merlin trusted Lancelot so much and why he seemingly preferred Lancelot’s company to most others. Lancelot was not only in on the secret, but he was close to Merlin in age, a friend who held the same beliefs and values. It must have been important and freeing for Merlin to have someone like Lancelot around when it would have been hard for him to be himself everywhere else. Arthur wondered just how much would change now that he knew, but somewhere deep in his heart he knew it wouldn’t be much. Merlin was still the same he had been before, Arthur was sure of that, and if he happened to have a little magic as well, then it could only make things more fun. After all, this was Merlin, what bad could he ever do?

 

Merlin examined Kay almost like a patient who needed a diagnosis. He examined his eyes, put a hand on his forehead and studied him from multiple angles, before confirming what Arthur had been sure was true.

 

“There is definitely something wrong with him,” Merlin said, and then looked at Arthur hesitantly, “Are you sure you okay with this?”

 

“With what?” Arthur asked confused. What part of this could he possibly be opposed to?

 

“Me,” Merlin clarified, “Using magic.”

 

“Well, that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it? God, Merlin, you can be such an idiot.”

 

Of course, Arthur wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from this. The one time Merlin had used magic in front of Arthur - that he had been aware of - Merlin had uttered no spell (which Arthur didn’t know was possible, but here they were) and Arthur hadn’t been looking in his eyes. This time, it was different.

 

Merlin put his hand on Kay’s forehead and began speaking words of the old religion. There had always been something powerful about hearing a spell being uttered, but Arthur found himself mostly amazed at the display before him. The words rolled off of Merlin’s tongue with ease, as if he had known the language since birth. And with a flash of gold, the spell did it its work. Red smoke oozed out of Kay’s body and Lancelot instinctively let go of the knight, as both he and Arthur pulled out their swords.

 

“Wait,” Merlin ordered as the red smoke evaporated into nothing before it got far from Kay’s body and when the smoke finally let up, Kay collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

 

“Is that it?” Lancelot asked carefully and Merlin leaned down to examine the fallen knight again.

 

“He should be fine now,” Merlin said after a while, “He’ll probably wake up soon.”

 

“Do you just… know how to do that?” Arthur asked to kill the time, as they waited for Kay to regain consciousness. He didn’t know the first thing about magic and since he wanted to learn, well, what better time than the present?

 

“No, not at all,” Merlin laughed, “Although I’m happy that you think I could do that.”

 

“Well, excuse me for not knowing,” Arthur huffed, and out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Lancelot shaking his head slightly at their antics.

 

“When you asked if I could tell if someone was enchanted, I figured that it would be handy to break it too, so I studied up on how to break spells like these. It took me a couple of hours, but seeing as I am not allowed to leave my room, I had plenty of spare time.”

 

“Says the person who left the room as soon as you were out of eyesight,” Lancelot shot back and Merlin laughed again.

 

“What...” Sir Kay suddenly muttered, and as they looked down on him still on the ground, he looked up at Lancelot, “Sir Lancelot!” He exclaimed and was quickly on his feet, “Where… what?”

 

“What do you remember?” Lancelot asked the knight who looked as confused as one could get.

 

“We were… in the forest of Ascetir,” sir Kay slowly recalled, “Lord Agravaine wanted to investigate the smoke and took me with him and… I don’t know.”

 

The three of them looked at each other. There seemed to be only one conclusion to draw. Agravaine was the source of it all, and Kay had been nothing but a puppet in his hands.

 

“Do you still think we shouldn’t act, my lord?” Lancelot asked, and Merlin looked at Arthur wildly, questioning what on earth Lancelot meant by that.

 

“Yes,” Arthur confirmed, “As long as we have Agravaine around, we have something on Morgana. If we expose him, she’ll just get a new strategy which we know nothing of. Let’s use what we can to make sure she can’t make a move without us knowing or being prepared.”

 

It was clear from his face that Merlin wasn’t extremely fond of keeping Agravaine around, but Arthur knew that his plan made sense. With the knowledge they had, it was the smartest thing to do and even Merlin had to acknowledge that.

 

“Um, my lord?” Kay interrupted, “What exactly are we doing here?”

 

It occurred to Arthur then that it was possibly about time that they got Kay out of the kingdom - they could take him back when Agravaine was no longer in the picture - but of course, the poor knight didn’t even know what he had done.

 

“Lancelot, take Kay to Elyan and Leon, explain what he needs to know on the way. I’ll make sure no one follows you.”

 

“Yes, sire.”

 

“And you, Merlin, get some rest,” Arthur said, a little more softly, “I’ll need you tomorrow.”

 

“Of course, my lord.”

 

Arthur didn’t sleep that night. How could he? After an hour or so of lying restlessly in his bed, Arthur got up and walked to his father’s chambers, where he sat by his bedside until he drew his final breath. The morning sun had only just sent its first rays of light through the window, when Gaius declared the king dead, and Arthur kissed his father a final time, letting some of the older knights take him to where the funeral would take place. Arthur knew the whole castle had been working the whole night to have everything ready for when it was time for a new king. 

 

Today, the kingdom would mourn, and tomorrow, it would celebrate as Arthur took the throne.

 

Back in Arthur’s chambers, breakfast was ready, his bed was made and his clothes laid out, all while Merlin was preparing a bath. Or, rather, Merlin was casually using magic to heat up the filled tub to a temperature he knew Arthur would love.

 

“Good morning, sire,” Merlin greeted, “I hope you are hungry.”

 

Arthur wasn’t really, but he ate a little anyway, knowing that he likely wouldn’t have time for much else today. When Merlin looked satisfied with how much Arthur had eaten - enough to keep him healthy and not enough to make him gain weight - Arthur entered the tub and let Merlin do his job.

 

Arthur almost expected Merlin to keep using magic, but he didn’t. He washed Arthur’s back and hair like he always did, reminding Arthur of how often they would use this time to discuss things that would usually be deemed inappropriate for a prince and a servant to discuss.

 

“You will be king tomorrow,” Merlin said suddenly, “How do you feel?”

 

“Like I’m not ready,” Arthur confessed, and he heard Merlin sigh.

 

“How come?”

 

“I was regent for three months, and I felt overwhelmed. I second-guessed all my decisions and I kept asking for advice when I know I’m supposed to take charge.”

 

Merlin combed his fingers through Arthur’s hair soothingly as he rid Arthur of his worries: “I don’t think you quite realize how well you did,” Merlin began, “Do you know why I first started to suspect Agravaine?”

 

“Pray tell.”

 

“He didn’t trust you,” Merlin said simply “It seemed that every time you made a decision, he questioned it, made you doubt yourself. It couldn’t have been easy. But you never hesitated asking for advice, and that’s what will make you a good king.” Arthur was sure Merlin was smiling fondly at this point, “You can’t rule by yourself. That’s why you have your knights, your council, Gwen… me. We’re all here to help you the best we can, because we know you can make the hard decisions, because you unite us and give us something to fight for. You have been ready to be king for a while, Arthur. Trust me. You are ready.”

 

Arthur smiled. Merlin’s wisdom never failed him when he needed it most, and Arthur couldn’t fathom what he would do without it, without Merlin. 

 

“Thank you,” Arthur said sincerely, “Thank you.”

 

That day, the kingdom mourned their king Uther Pendragon.

 

The morning of Arthur’s coronation felt an awful lot like any other morning. He was woken up by Merlin, the curtains drawn back to let the sunshine in, and Merlin seemed impossibly chipper despite the early hour. He had to drag Arthur out of bed by the feet, and it wasn’t until Arthur hit the cold floor that he realized just what was about to happen. 

 

“Can I go back to bed?” Arthur mumbled and Merlin kicked him lightly in the side, “Ouch! What was that for?”

 

“Stop moaning,” Merlin ordered, “Today is an important day, and if you don’t look up to par, I will be blamed for that.”

 

“So now you suddenly care about your job?” Arthur said slightly sarcastically, not really having the energy to go through with the insult. 

 

“I always care, you just don’t notice all the things I do for you. Now get up.” Merlin took away Arthur’s blanket, but the prince - because he was still a prince - stayed down and looked as his servant made the bed. 

 

“Is that what you’re wearing today?” Arthur asked absentmindedly as he watched Merlin work. He was wearing what he wore every day which really helped the feeling that this really wasn’t any special day.

 

“Yes?” Merlin answered hesitantly, “I’m not letting you put me in that hideous servant outfit again.”

 

Arthur laughed. That evening had ended with Merlin being poisoned - which seemed to happen on an alarming frequency - so Arthur wasn’t in a particular hurry to put Merlin in that outfit again. But he did have something else in mind. 

 

Arthur finally managed to get up and walked to his wardrobe, where he knew there was a set of clothes in the very back of it, which he had requested be made only a few days ago. As he took it out, Merlin looked at him questioning.

 

“I already prepared clothes for you, sire,” he said, and Arthur threw the clothes at him.

 

“Those are for you,” he explained as Merlin examined them, “If you are to be the king’s servant, you need to look the part.”

 

“They look expensive,” Merlin muttered, probably not liking that Arthur had spent that much money on him, but the crown prince wasn’t taking it.

 

“As the future king,” Arthur said cheekily, “I am allowed nice things.”

 

“I thought these were for me,” Merlin teased, and Arthur smirked.

 

“Well, you’re mine, right? I think it counts.”

 

Merlin shook his head: “Just get dressed.”

 

Arthur did as told and ate the breakfast Merlin had brought up for him, while his servant ran off to help with preparations around the castle and hopefully change into the set of clothes Arthur had given him. The time for the coronation was closing in, and Arthur leaned back in his chair to clear his head. Today was the day he became king. 

 

Merlin came back in his new clothes just in time to get Arthur ready for the ceremony. As he dressed Arthur in his ceremonial wear, they didn’t really talk. Merlin quickly gave him a run down of how everything would proceed, but was off as quickly as he came when the job was done, leaving Arthur by himself. 

 

In the end, it was Guinevere who told him when everything was ready and together with her, he left his chambers. The air between them was still slightly strained, and conversation between them had been slight, but she no longer looked at him like she wanted to hit him. She had been silently supporting him throughout the funeral, and she squeezed his hand before he entered the throne room where members of the court, noblemen, the royal household and his knights were all present for the coronation.

 

The ceremony itself was something Arthur felt that he needed to get through. There were hardly any vows he hadn’t made already as a knight or a crown prince, but he still spoke and meant every word. The crown placed on his head felt impossibly heavy, but as Arthur turned around to look at his people, it got easier. It got light because he wasn’t alone. And he looked at his servant, he stood proudly, with a smile on his face and loyalty in his heart as he chanted with the rest of the crowd: “Long live the king!”

 

It was only a week later that Leon and Elyan returned, the official story being that they had been on a patrol, and they brought news.

 

“You are sure it was her?” Arthur questioned the two knights who stood before the new king, and they nodded.

 

“Yes sire, there is no doubt that it was Morgana,” Leon confirmed.

 

“How power has grown, sire,” Elyan warned, “And she wasn’t alone.”

 

“Morgause...” Arthur speculated out loud. If Morgana was on the move, they needed to keep a close eye on Agravaine. So far, he hadn’t done anything. He had stayed within the castle walls, sometimes advising Arthur on various matters, but Arthur could only pretend to listen to him. 

 

“We’ll send out another patrol tomorrow,” Arthur informed and then dismissed the council. Tonight was Samhain’s Eve. Although there was much to worry about, sometimes feasts and celebrations were a good way to let off steam, and though Arthur’s first week as king had been mostly uneventful, the mere presence of Agravaine added a lot of stress to the young king.

 

Arthur went straight to his chambers and was welcomed by Merlin who had his clothes ready for the feast. His servant was more or less fully recovered by now, the only sign of the last three months was the still bandaged wrist, which only hid the faintest of scars by now. 

 

Merlin smiled brightly at the sight of his king, and helped him out of the ceremonial armor he wore to most council meetings.

 

“I heard Morgana has been sighted,” Merlin said as he removed the chainmail, quite literally making Arthur’s entire body feel lighter, “We need to be careful.”

 

“We’ll think about her tomorrow,” Arthur said and rolled his shoulders, reliving some of the tension, “Tonight is the feast.”

 

“Where you will be having a lot of fun and I will be working,” Merlin complained and Arthur rolled his eyes.

 

“Come on,” Arthur retaliated, “We both know you steal whatever food you can anyway.”

 

“How dare you?” Merlin said dramatically, “I am a loyal servant of Camelot, and stealing from banquets is as bad as breaking the law.”

 

Arthur laughed at the irony of the statement. To not tip Agravaine off, they had decided to merely leave the ban on magic as it was, making Merlin a criminal by default - and technically Arthur would be considered a traitor by protecting him from the law. They had had very few incidents where the ban on magic had made their life harder, and whenever someone was accused of using magic, Arthur quite cleverly figured out how to make it seem like magic hadn’t been involved at all. Sometime the young king would catch Agravaine making an annoyed face, when Arthur didn’t listen to him, which Arthur always counted as a victory.

 

Arthur was quickly dressed in his banquet clothes, Merlin having chosen that same white tunic with the golden pendragon crest embroidered by his heart, which he had made for him all those weeks ago. Arthur let his fingers trail down over the dragon as he looked in the mirror. It was just a piece of clothing, but it felt special to Arthur. It was like a reminder of Merlin’s loyalty and companionship. Arthur tore himself away from the mirror and left for the banquet hall, Merlin right at his heels.

 

The feast began as so many feasts did. There was food and wine aplenty, and laughter rung in the banquet hall. Close to midnight, Arthur held his well prepared speech, sending small messages to those who were no longer with them. His words were met with cheers and respect, all of them, unaware of what happened in the world around them. And as the clock struck midnight, they entered the darkest hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This it the end guys, however I am stoked to begin working on the companion story, so if you're really annoyed with how I left things, the story I have planned for the companion story extends beyond this one.
> 
> If you are wondering why I left things here, it's because this story was always just meant to be for Arthur to find out who Merlin really is, and for Merlin to understand that Arthur trusts him, magic or not, so there wasn't much to do after the reveal. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story, and if you want updates on the companion story, you can follow me on [tumblr](winglesscrows.tumblr.com). I'll do a couple of shorter stories before it though, just to give myself a little break from a very plot heavy story, but I am very excited to start writing it though, so the wait won't be incredibly long (hopefully).
> 
> Thank you for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://winglesscrows.tumblr.com/)


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